


After I Met Him

by YaoiKing17



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Keith (Voltron) Has a Praise Kink, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, Marijuana, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Shiro (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, updating as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaoiKing17/pseuds/YaoiKing17
Summary: Keith may have an addiction to smoking weed like it’s air and chugging alcohol like it’s water. He may also have an addiction to fighting, mostly when it isn’t necessary. But he has such pretty eyes and a pretty face, and a pretty mouth too.. And Shiro can’t help but to be intoxicated by him and everything he does.





	1. Chapter 1

_Tell me, what's the difference between a psychopath and a twenty-something-year-old obsessing over knives? One of them can rack over twenty bodies in sixteen months._

…

Coming to this costume party was probably one of the worst ideas his friends ever had.

Because this was not some normal college party, where large handfuls of common and well-known peers come to a house with red plastic cups in their hands, demanding to drink every single option of liquid that racked the kitchen counters. Where music blared so loud that it was sure to cause the entire neighborhood to file in noise complaints, well enough, by morning. And where airheaded peers throw toilet paper onto trees and often sneak anywhere that can deem some sort of privacy to suck each others face off.

No, no. This was a party where _hundreds_ of well-known peers came into a fucking _mansion,_ any sort of cup they could get ahold of in their hands, filled to the brim with questionable colors of drink, and sloshed onto the floor. Where peers snuck into groups of three to five and huddled together in a circle or in the corner of the space given, hell, anywhere, to stand under a non-transparent cloud of marijuana that fazed through flashes of colors; because of course there were small post lights bursting snips of neon colors in the house. Passing a rolled, burnt blunt between the five of them, none of them showing any signs of discomfort of having to touch the other's saliva that was clearly present on the head of the fucking thing. Where peers barged in with terrible costumes (some not even wearing the proper attire) and tried to look for anyone who would be able to poke at their reference, or if they matched with their own.

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Where peers came to only sneak off into the seemingly never-ending space of the house, into one of the not so hidden bedrooms or bathrooms and then proceed to suck each others face off. Where—

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Shiro needed to stop or he was going to have a fucking heart attack.

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Luckily, Lance's commotion helped him gear back into focus.

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"–Kogane's finished his latest victim, did you hear?"

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Or maybe not.

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"Lance–" there's Pidge, giving an annoyed sigh.

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"He did! It's all around campus. Hung his body dry in the wine cellar underneath our very feet!" Lance whispers in a loud tone, milk chocolate hand coming up to cover the left side of his mouth. He's glaring down at Pidge who stares up at him in an exasperated manner. "Chopped the corpse up, too."

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"Lance, gross!" Hunk dry heaves besides him.

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"Where the hell did you even hear that? You make him sound like some sort of psychopathic vampire. Which he isn't," Pidge tries to point out.

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"Well, how do you know that?"

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"Because Matt and I have actually talked to him and his brother. And they are both far from anything everyone calls them. Sure, he's a little anti-social, they _both_ are, but they're actually some pretty nice guys."

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Lance shakes his head. "Don't believe it 'til I see it."

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"Hey, Katie."

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It's a deep voice that startles the group out of their conversation. Pidge is the first to turn her head and she beams up in surprise. Hunk, Lance, and Shiro are left to stand by quietly as she squeals, "–Red!" and grabs the man into a tight hug. The man grunts softly but he makes a gesture of leaning down and patting her back in response. He has a hood tucked over his head so it's hard to make out much of his face.

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The man is dressed in an all-out body costume that leaves little to the imagination. What's shown of his skin is just the faintest of the top of his neck and his face of what Shiro can see, which is painted or dyed to a dark purple color. There's an odd jagged stretch of a scar on Red's right cheek and it stretches out from just under his jawline and up to sit under the beginning of his eye. It's a nasty bugger, and Shiro wonders quietly how it got there. To his outfit, it seems surprisingly well put together, like an actual suit with pieces to it. But no–no pieces? There seems to be a chest plate with four odd glowing purple lines in a symmetrical pattern, and it smoothes down over his taut stomach that clearly struggles against the constricting fabric. Maybe an undersuit? A very thin undersuit. The entire thing is mostly black and grey, with hints of purple. Huh.

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An old brown leather belt sits on the man's hips, the left side of it is snagged down and Shiro glances over to see a thick harness that drags down to an odd point. A knife. _Huh._ And a semi-large satchel on Red's right.

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When Red seems to stand up straighter, he gives the smallest of smiles and grabs the folds of his hood and settles it behind his head. His hands are covered with black fingerless gloves, and what shows of his fingers are painted purple, as well. Bangs are quick to fall over his face, to dip and curve along his high cheekbones and tickle the bridge of his small nose. It's safe to say that Red has his hair pulled back from his face. He glances up to give acknowledgment of the rest of Pidge's friends.

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To Hunk first, who stands in a chef's uniform, large chefs hat sitting on the rim of his forehead. If the hat were any higher, you could peek out the orange bandana that's still tied around his head. A semi-long white apron hangs on the line of his belt. Black dress shoes to match.

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Then to Lance who's in a ridiculous wolf's like outfit (Lance says he's a bounty hunter who's like a ninja that stalks in the shadows and will steal from your pockets) with a brown bandana, with two orange stripes in the middle. There's a weird thing of fabric going on around his neck, but it's a faint maroon red and acts as a scarf. It's kept simple down; a slightly baggy grey shirt with grey joggers and brown combat boots. A belt rides on his hips as well, a small satchel pinned to his belt. A headband of fox ears stands proud.

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Pidge, still in front of Red, hugging him, in a gremlin's outfit. Her hair had been slicked back for the effect of two large green droopy ears that are glued on a thin headband to her sides, both having small pockets to cusp her ears hidden. She wears a onesie like piece, a simple outline of an animals belly drawn onto the green fabric. She wears flip-flops instead to finish the look.

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And finally, to Shiro, who shifts under the dark gaze—

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When the hell did Red have yellow eyes? Yellow cat-like eyes. They must be contacts. They have a slim, black pupil, but the bright iris is what grabs Shiro, halts his breath, makes him freeze. He is prey under the hungry cast of a predator, who stalks its meal.

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"Nice outfit," Red's deep voice snaps Shiro out of his trance. Shiro blinks and looks down, seeing as though the majority of his scarred body is nude for the eye. Including his metal prosthetic. The tank top Lance gave him, it was an old Hooters shirt that was torn for reasons unknown. Lance decided to cut it to make it look better, but Shiro was secretly praying to have the extra slim of fabric to cover himself now. It was cut down not even below his abnormally large pecs —Shiro refused to listen to Lance and call them tits— and teased a showcase of the faint buds of his dusted pink nipples that even small scars kiss over.

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All deliciously toned and muscular skin rocked down until the smallest pair of short shorts known to mankind sat. Shiro somehow agreed to wear a random pair of orange shorts, but the thing was: they were so tight. Shiro's thighs stretched the damned cloth that it was hard enough to have boxers underneath it, needing to roll them up so it would fit the look. His ass was squeezed in a delcious way for the pondering eyes and then it curved down to the meat of his thighs then legs. He wore basic white flip-flops. All aside, he was a worn down yet still statued God in the presence of mortals.

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"Very nice outfit," Red speaks again, yellow irises drinking up Shiro's nearly bare form. Pidge elbows the man in his stomach and Red huffs out a breath. "Kidding. It's nice to see you, Pidge. Hunk," he even offers a left closed fist to the nervous college kid. Hunk gives a bashful smile and returns the bump.

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"Wait–you know Hunk and Pidge? And your name is _Red_?!" Lance squawks.

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Red just offers a raised brow and gives a low shrug of his shoulders after a long second. It's a non-formal gesture. "Hunk makes the best sweets. Pidge is a friend," he answers simply. "So," he shifts the question just as he moves onto his right leg, giving a small tut in his hips. "What were you talking about earlier? Those Kogane brothers? They're an odd bunch," he quips.

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It brings an odd set of gestures. Pidge freezes, Hunk begins to panic and hides behind Shiro who only raises an eyebrow in confusion, and Lance perks up, clearly interested.

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"Oh my Gods, you heard about them too, right?" Lance gasps, taking a step closer to Red.

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"I mean who hasn't?" Red gives a weak excuse of a smile, dropping his arms from Pidge to cross over his chest. The music that once blared through the house slows to a halt before a shrill of a scream echoes and booms from the walls. It's a new song that Shiro can't be bothered to hear.

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Red gives a flirtatious wink and slides over to Lance, easily towering over him with his build. Lance doesn't once blink or cower back, if anything, he puffs his chest out and stares up into captivating yellow eyes. But even he loses his breath, and whispers, "holy shit, your eyes."

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"Mmh. Charming, aren't they?" Red's voice is a pitch lower and Shiro shivers violently at the hidden intentions in his tone. He's hardly known this man for not even five minutes and he's shaking like a school girl. But Red is leaning down, bending his head to the right side of Lance's head. He seems to be whispering something in his ear, and with how Lance is standing just slightly tilted on his side, Red is able to avert his golden eyes straight into Shiro's face who does nothing but stare back. He swallows.

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Red suddenly stands up from Lance and offers the poor guy a half huff of breath before he's moving away, something so natural in his stance that Shiro feels his mind buzzing in his skull as he's coming closer. Red stands in front of Shiro, standing only three to four inches shorter, but he's so tall and built and Shiro can feel how warm he is and then Red's lips are turning upwards and he's leaning closer, parting his lips.

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Piercings. The first thing he noticed other than the obnoxious golden eyes were piercings. Some under the left side of his lip, a paired stud in the crest of his right eyebrow. Three glaring from the annoying flashes of light, in front of him, on Red's ear.

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Shiro gives an audible swallow when he can feel the warm roll of air from Red blow onto his skin. It's a long, terribly long threat of silence, then Red is moving closer, moving almost against him and Shiro is paralyzed. He can't move, he doesn't dare try, not when the man's breath is so fucking _hot_ against his ear and he's hit with a blast of burnt apples and sugar that seep into his nostrils.

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He momentarily forgets that he's in a mansion with hundreds of college peers chugging down colored alcohol, smoking in from papered blunts, some not even bothering to find a room while they hump recklessly against each other, trying to tear off their clothes. He forgets that Hunk is hiding behind him, that Pidge had not once been acknowledged since Red spoke her name, that Lance is frozen in his own spot as he watches Red lean closer towards him. He forgets that everyone can view his body that's littered with pink blemishes, that his metal prosthetic is out for gazes. Because Red is– he's–

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"Nice to meet you, Shiro," Red cooes in his ear.

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Red is intoxicating.

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But then Red is gone, raising a covered hand to drop onto Shiro's nearly bare shoulder, giving him a pat before it moves. Shiro misses hearing Red call out, "have fun with the party, you guys,"

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Pidge, who seems to have been nearly forgotten, smushes her glasses up from the bridge of her nose. "What– just happened?" she asks.

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Shiro comes to agree with that short question but he can't make heads or tails of anything. Lance gets his bearings around himself and then he's taking a step closer to Pidge, trying to stay in his common bubble from the rest of the peers around them. "I don't know but I think I'm going to have a drink," he huffs out.

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"I second that," Pidge chirps in, "do you two want to join?"

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Hunk and Shiro glance towards each other, silently watching to see if their face caves in for hesitation. Neither of them seem to disagree.

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"Sure."

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How the absolute hell he got here, Shiro can never remember. All he can come up with is that he's downed four cups of colored alcohol, he's stuffed his face with at least seven corndogs and three bags of chips –Lance claimed to have found them in the kitchen that had rows of food lying about– and had lost his flip-flops twice.

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But now he lays here, shirtless and flat on his back on a plush mattress with his head hanging off the edge, jaw slack but stretched as wide as it can manage as a cock slips past his lips and into his throat. He's borderline tipsy but he can think fairly well and he's glad he is because all he's inhaling is a strong musk that makes his eyes sting and mouth water.

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Or maybe that's just the fucking colossal cock ramming into his airway and making his throat bulge, and he feels a warm hand cusp his neck and the digits wrap around him squeeze softly and he lets out a muffled whine as he bobs his head in an awkward motion to try and urge more touches onto his body. Only to have the cock nudge further. His own cock bulges and strains in its slim confinements.

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"You take my cock so well, look at you," the voice above him hisses out hotly and Shiro feels his eyes rolling back in his head and his hands grasp desperately at the shuffled sheets to the sides of him for balance. Another warm hand feathers across his chest that heaves, fingers brush across his nipples and suddenly they take his bud in and tug.

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"Mmmff!" Shiro gags around the cock that's stuffed so far in his throat and he has to pull his head back for what he can to try and get some air in his nose to breathe.

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There's a throaty chuckle from above him before the cock is sliding back, swollen tip slicking away from his lips and Shiro swallows in waves of air, even as he tries to stretch his neck out to try and mouth along the saliva-polished cock, trying to keep it near his mouth.

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"As much as I want to keep fucking that mouth of yours, your blood is rushing to your head. And we can't have that," the hand around his neck loosens and trails down from his chin to his swollen lips, the one around his bud tickles fingernails along his flushed skin. "Let's change positions, hm? Here, sit up," the hands both move to help support his shoulder blades as Shiro slowly shifts to sit up, feeling the blood rush through his skull.

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And even though his head is spinning and his muscles are trying to go lax, he forces his legs to strain and hold him up even for a moment as he turns and reaches his iron arms out, to drape around the man's neck and pull him close as he falls back against the mattress with an "mmph!"

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There are strong arms standing as L-shaped pillars beside him and he grins dizzily as some body weight dips onto his own. "Mmmh, Red," he whispers out and tilts his head up. "Please," he begs, craning his head up to meet soft lips that press against his own. Blood bangs against his skull and the motions of Red moving against him are slowed. Slurred. Amazing. He feels a shiver rack up his body when he hears the wet slick of their lips when they part.

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"Please what, Shiro?" Red sighs against his lips.

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Shiro doesn't know what he's asking for. He just _wants._

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"Please," he tries again. Rolls his hips up against Red's and moans softly when his clothed erection grinds against Red's bare cock and it creates a nice friction. "Please. Red."

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When Shiro's able to open his eyes, not remembering when he closed them, he's rendered surprised when he's face to face with Red's pretty face. Fallen purple wine colored locks dangle from the sides and the top of his head. Speckles of purple still coat his skin, not a single smear or smudge for what Shiro can see. His bright golden contacts still gaze upon his stunned face.

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"Tell me what you want, Shiro."

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"Touch–" he begins but halts when Red's lips turn up just the slightest at the ends. "Red–" he croaks, feeling sudden embarrassment at the gesture.

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"Tell," Red rocks his hips down against Shiro's, "me."

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"Mmh-! I, _fuck_!" he whines pathetically and grabs the back of Red's neck, pulling his face down closer until he can feel the warmth of his breath. "I don't know what you're doing to me, but I like it too much to care. Just, _fuck me,_ do something. Please."

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"An handy sound nice?" Red chirps.

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Shiro drops his head back on the pillow. "Why do you make it sound hot when that's not even a good word choi—" Shiro's breath shakes in his throat. Warm lips are kissing and sucking along his adam's apple, and he can't help but swallow, feeling how Red's mouth follows the bobbing. "Mmmmh–!" a whine is singing from his own lips that struggle to keep themselves in a straight line.

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"I'll take it as a yes," Red licks across his skin. "Try to keep quiet," he whispers as he suckles in the dip of Shiro's neck for just a short moment before trailing down, down, down, past his gorgeous pair of dark pink nipples that sit on very clear moldable pecs, kisses and flicks the tip of his tongue against the small scratches of pink scars as he travels. Tongue licks a circle around his belly button- Shiro's stomach rolling at the faint touch- and tickling the beginning of his dark happy trail.

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"Red… Red, fuck," Shiro gasps and pulls his elbows back to his sides so he can crane his upper body up to watch Red lower himself further. Red's slim, gloved fingers are itching up towards the hem of his orange shorts and the small, cut wires in Shiro's brain finally spark together and he feels himself tense. "Oh, w-wait, wait, Red–"

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But it's too late, Red's fingers have curled around the hem and he's tugging down, towards Shiro's feet. And there sits a strained pair of black lingerie lace panties, barely confining his cock that's twitching against the lace, swollen mushroom tip sitting in a small pool of pre that cools in the strong dip of his V-line. Red's yellow (contacts) eyes are glistening when they turn up to him. There's a growing grin on his lips.

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"Oh? You're into lingerie, Shiro?"

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"N-no! I just couldn't wear boxers under this because it would've looked weird and–"

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Red just lets him continue babbling while he sits there, shit-eating grin on his face.

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"–Pidge 'n Lance won't let me live it down if they find out– can we just move on from this..?" Shiro can feel the warmth radiating from his face and neck.

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"Hmm," Red hums off as he locks eye contact with Shiro and lowers his face, lips parting to mouth against the clear line in the black panties. He breaths hot and heavy and slides his tongue against the thin lacework, something so experienced with the action that Shiro trembles.

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Shiro feels the itchy tickle of the lace panties kiss down the meat of his thighs and then warm lips kiss the tip of his cock and Shiro's elbows shake. Red sits his head up and his teeth catch on the hem of his middle finger carding, swiftly tugging off his black hand glove. Pale, freckled kissed skin is something Shiro is surprised to see but he can't take much notice of it because Red is licking his hand, and a medium-sized, silver ball is following the action, and _oh it's a fucking tongue piercing—_

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Red's hand is closing around the base of Shiro's cock before he's slowly pumping and oh, oh– Shiro is not going to last if Red keeps doing whatever he's doing.

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"Red, Red, o _h shit_ ," Shiro gasps out.

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"Mmn," Red hums lightly, tilting his head to the side. He's doing something with his fingers around his cock, and it feels so good that Shiro's hips are trembling. "You're sensitive right.. _here,_ aren't you?" Red asks. His thumb and index finger have tightened around just under halfway of Shiro's cock, giving enough pressure that burns the soles of Shiro's feet and makes him gasp and curl his toes.

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"Red– don't, no– oh Gods," then Red is loosening his fingers as he pumps Shiro once more, but then curls his fingers tight again right under and fuck, he's so close..

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"There you go, Shiro," Red continues the action as he sits up and dips onto the side of Shiro, to lay sideways and watch his face. "You're so hot in my hand, so thick.. you're throbbing," Red murmurs. And even though Shiro is sure he's merely saying it, he can't help the things it does to his body. He warms up and feels his chest flutter.

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"Please, Red please," Shiro jerks and grasps onto the side of Red's neck with his metal prosthetic. Red's pulse so strong against his cool fingers that Shiro feels it vibrate against the base of his arm. "Baby– _fuck,_ I'm not gonna–"

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Red keens at the nickname and quickens his pace, still making sure to tighten and release his fingers in certain areas. "That's it. Come for me, Shiro," he leans down to mouth along Shiro's throat.

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Shiro's entire form tenses up and he comes with a shuddering cry. His fingers involentarily tightened on Red's neck, eyes are squeezed shut, mouth is slack, and his hips jerk once, twice, before strips of white coat both Red's hand and his trembling stomach.

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"There you go. You did good, Shiro. That's it," Red murmurs and Shiro can barely see once his eyes open, stars –literally and figuratively– covering his sight. There's another dip and then his nose twitches when they catch a swift of apples and sugar and then Red's warm lips are pressing against his own and something's happening. Shiro feels it more than he can register it, and feels Red's tongue lick across his bottom lip.

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Shiro's parts his lips, and he feels Red breathing out and then there's something curling against the inside of his cheeks. Shiro's beginning to breathe in and feels his lungs fill with a soft feeling of smoke. He moans heavily at the feeling, all the while a shudder is racking his body and the smoke rolls out from his lips.

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Red smiles against his mouth. "Felt good?"

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"Yeah," Shiro breaths.

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Red just hums against him and sits back. "Let me clean you up. Do you need water?" he asks as he stands from the bed and grabs a small handful of tissues before wiping Shiro and his dirty hand clean.

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"No, I'm good. Thank you though," Shiro closes his eyes and allows himself to be cleaned up. When Red is done and throws the tissues away, he rubs Shiro's bare shoulder before going adjacent to the mattress and taking a seat on the edge.

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Shiro shifts himself around and then onto his stomach, pulling up a pillow to his chest as he stares softly at the huddled figure sitting in front of him. There's dim light peeking through the window and onto Red's form, and Shiro can make out a small, dark rolled cylinder object resting between his fingers. Whenever he had gotten that, he can't remember.

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"I don't.. normally do one night stands," he whispers out in the moonlight that gleams over his blemished body.

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"Well, baby, that's all I'm able to do. I'm not the kind of guy for relationships. Especially the one you're looking for."

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"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

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"Means that I'm not the guy to look for when aiming for a relationship. It won't work out."

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"What makes you so sure that it won't?"

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"I can name a few things."

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"Like?"

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"Like how my name isn't Red, firstly."

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Shiro takes a moment to blink and sharpens his stare on 'Red'. He's quiet, then, "you respond to it fine– so what is your name?"

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"Keith."

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A sharp inhale.

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"Oh."

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_Oh?_

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"Kogane? Keith– Keith Kogane?"

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"Surprised?"

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Shiro drops his head onto the pillow underneath him, using his metal prosthetic to run through his black locks and lets out a long sigh. "Just caught me off guard, is all."

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"Is it because of the name or the rumors that come along with it?"

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"I—"

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Keith gives a small snort. "You don't have to answer that."

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Shiro is quiet for a beat.

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"Could I take another.. um, what's the word–"

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"Smoke?" Keith glances at his fallen head. "'course. You like the taste?"

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Shiro just nods his head.

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"Sit your head up then," Shiro lifts his head up, "ah, ah–" Keith brings the paper to his lips and Shiro watches as red and orange glow in the darkness. Then Keith is leaning down, coming closer, and Shiro feels himself close his eyes and part his own lips on the small action. Not even questioning Keith's choice of how he takes it.

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Chapped lips close on his, then Keith is breathing out and Shiro is breathing in, the smoke curling and rolling along the walls of his cheeks and in the back of his throat. The feeling alone makes him have a head rush and he smiles in the short kiss, holding the smoke in his lungs. He pushes back, runs his lips against Keith's as he breathes the smoke out from his nostrils. "Mmm," he hums softly and licks the flakes that had nicked off from Keith's lips onto his own and grinds them into nothing with his molars. They burst and crunch with such a strong sweetness of apples and sugar that his face wrinkles at the ends of his eyes and lips. "Thanks," he offers once he's swallowed back the taste.

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Keith just gives him a slight smirk.

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Shiro is quiet as he allows the hit to rock his body into relaxation. It's from his tense shoulders and down the curve of his back, into his legs and curling in his toes. From the blunt end of his right arm and it churns there. So strong that his metal prosthetic picks up on it and returns the feeling back onto his shocked nerves. It's weird but nice.

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"You know, if you're gonna stay in my room tonight, you might as well eat with me and wear some warm clothes. It's going to get chilly in a few hours."

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"You don't close your windows?"

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Keith just shows the small roll of paper in his fingers as his answer.

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"Also I don't have any, um, clothes. I just have that small outfit."

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"Mmn. Well, that's why I give you some p-jay's to wear. You might squeeze them just a touch but they'll work. Soft, too."

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"Really? You don't have to," Shiro sighs.

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Keith gives a small look and twists his head. "Why wouldn't I? You're cold, you don't have a ride, one that's not sober or hiding, and it's late. Stay the night here and I'll take you home when you wake up in the morning."

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"Where are you going to sleep, then?" Shiro asks.

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"There's a couch in the den outside my room. I'll sleep on there."

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"I can't take your bed like this, Keith. We can both fit on here–"

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"Shiro, if I were to do that, we wouldn't be getting much sleep. And you look like you need your night's rest. I'll take the couch."

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"What about the party?"

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"They're all drunk or high, I'm sure half of them are passed out already. If the music gets too loud, I'll come in here until it calms down."

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Shiro feels guilty about hogging all of the bed but he allows it to drop. Keith takes his quietness with a slight smile and stands from the mattress and goes over opposite of the bed, where two white painted wooden doors sit. He pushes one away from him and it rolls to the side and clanks in annoyance when it meets its metal barrier. The entire roll of wood that strips from above is stacked with several hangers holding items of clothing ranging from tank tops and shirts to shorts and sweatpants.

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Keith is quick to pick out two items, from what Shiro can see it's a soft looking pair of Jack Skellington pajama pants and a faded red t-shirt that has odd looking drops of something that's attatched to the fabric.

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"I think you'll fit these fairly. I need to change into something myself," Keith tosses the outfit towards Shiro who's still laying on the bed before going back to looking at his closet. Shiro knows that Keith has seen him naked –and still kind of is– not even ten minutes ago, but he makes use of the fact that Keith has his back turned and tugs off the thin sheets from his lower body to roll back and stand up from the bed.

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He looks down and takes notice that he stands naked. Not knowing where the hell his black panties are, he grabs the pajama pants first and sets into the soft pair with a small contented sigh. Then he tugs on the large shirt over his head and pats it down against his stomach.

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Soft, indeed.

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"Thank you, K–" Shiro had looked up, a simple subconscious gesture, but regrets it as all he can see is a toned pale back that rolls and curves along with Keith's frontal movements. The moonlight from the window doesn't help because Keith's back is kissed with several freckles, of all small sizes and visibility. Oh, how much Shiro would give to be able to feel and kiss them. He's surprised by when the half of Keith turns and Shiro can make out more freckles on his stomach, and further. Oh, a tasty sight—

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"Shiro? You okay?" Keith calls out.

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"Yeah… yeah, why?" It's a hard choice to make, but Shiro forces his clouded grey eyes up to Keith's purple painted face.

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"You look comfy over there. Care to get some snacks while I change?" There's a smirk on Keith's face that Shiro can't see.

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"Sure. I can go get some in the kitchen."

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"Or in that dresser behind you."

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Shiro turns behind him and stares at the lengthy dresser that he sure as hell did not register when he came into this room. "Um," he voices but plays along and tugs open a drawer on the top row. But Keith is true to his word, this one is filled with both open and wrapped pieces of sweets from chocolate to gummy bears. He moves to open the second, which is filled with bags of chips. There's a lot, needless to say.

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"Pick out whatever you feel like munching on and we'll snack on that."

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So Shiro digs out bags of preztels, funyuns and cheetos, snickers and reese's peices, kitkats and a case of lemon summer bread. "You have a good taste in food," he comments.

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"Thank you," Keith chuckles lightly. Shiro has made himself comfy on Keith's bed with the line of junk food surrounding him, when Keith is making his way back to the bed as well. He's changed into a red long sleeved shirt and black sweatpants, black gloves still on his hands. He has two beers, a carton of milk, and a clear case of something darkly colored. He settles himself on the mattress and sets down the drinks and case before leaning to the edge and there's some shuffling and crinkling of plastic before he sits up.

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Keith is flicking a small square lighter underneath the butt of a large rolled cylander and Shiro watches in fasination as a warmer shade of red and orange burn at the ends. Once grey tendrils curl into the air, Keith flicks the lighter closed and glances over at Shiro once he takes the blunt out of his mouth. "You want to try?"

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Shiro looks sheepish but nods his head.

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"This one will hit you a lot harder so be careful," Keith shifts and holds the blunt out for Shiro.

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"O-oh.." is all Shiro can say before Keith's eyebrows arch up and a grin is spreading on his lips and he pulls the blunt back.

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"You were expecting me to kiss you," Keith muses. He says no more as he brings the paper to his lips and inhales before moving back and towards Shiro with his lips pursed out. Shiro swallows in an embarrassed manner but takes advantage of Keith allowing it and he leans forward, blood and skin hand cupping Keith's neck as he presses their lips together. Keith breaths out and Shiro breaths in and oh– Shiro feels his head thump once, twice and Keith seems to be kissing him slower than he remembers but it feels so nice as he breaths out the tendrils from his nose.

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When Keith decides that the two need air in their lungs, he parts himself and sits back with a low smile on his face. Shiro gasps and hazily watches the man across from him, knowing that there's an obvious flush on his face.

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"Enjoying yourself?" Keith asks.

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"Mmn," Shiro hums.

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The two go on in the night, stuffing their faces with junk food and every so often sharing kisses– Shiro's excuse to want to smoke but really wanting to feel Keith lips against his for a short while. By the end of the blunt, the two are hazed out and Keith is stumped besides the window, the end of the blunt burning out in its custard, sitting somewhere. Shiro had moved to lay on his stomach with his head in Keith's lap.

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"Sleep. Gotta go.. t' sleep," Keith huffs out.

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"Stay," comes Shiro's moan.

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"Mmn. Sit up," Keith slowly shuffles his hand under Shiro's head and raises his head as he slowly turns his legs to the side of the bed. Shiro just groans and allows his head to drop back onto the sheets, even though he isn't happy about it. He can barely move his limbs, so he just watches as Keith stretches his back and arms out.

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"–was comfy," Shiro yawns out.

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"Put blankets over you. I'm sleepin' on the couch."

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Shiro grunts as a response. He's too tired and dazed to care.

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Keith stands from the bed and the weight dips back up from where he used to sit. Shiro is too out of it to notice that Keith had gotten a blanket somewhere and unfolded it over him. Shiro just knows that he's beginning to settle in the warmth.

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"Night, Keith."

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"Goodnight, Shiro."

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With that, Keith straightens and makes his leave for the door.

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And while Shiro was mindlessly sleeping through the night, tucked under what seemed to be layers and layers of blankets with empty sweets wrappers around him, the cops were called.

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Two bodies were found downstairs.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baby ;) sorry the mini hiatus. I'm actually proud and excited for this run.
> 
> Chapters will be out between 5 to 7 days
> 
> Enjoy! :)


	2. Chapter 2

_They make their prey codependent on them. Make them feel like it's them against the world. Like they are the only one stable in their life. When it is farther than the truth._

...

The sun is producing warm rays onto his face when he stirs awake. The first thing he takes notice of is that his brain is thumping against his skull, and it's not the best feeling, but not the worst. It is enough for him to moan in annoyance and roll his shoulders out.

He feels slight constriction around his arms and stomach and wearily blinks his eyes open. The light is straining his eyes but he manages to blink the haze away and slowly sits up. Soft fabric falls into a heap around him. This bed is too soft to be his old mattress. Sheets are too fine and silky to be his worn down bedsheets.

He's not in his apartment. So, where is he?

Shiro runs his skin and blood hand come up from his side to run through his bed hair. His arms are iron and his muscles are tight and they're all screaming at him to lay back down but he needs to go–

_–and see Red._

Red?

No, _Keith._

Grey irises are hazily soaking up his surroundings first. This must be where Keith brought him last night, he can recall that much. The mattresses, Shiro takes note of, are stacked in the corner opposite of the bedroom door. There's a large window, nearly the length of the cushion behind him, still open. Cool air breezes inside. Adjacently to his left is a long wooden drawer –Shiro remembers the multiple candies and sweets wrappers–, several small golden trophies stand in a row from tallest to shortest. One drawer is still cracked open.

Opposite of the drawer and mattresses are two large white wooden doors, both rolled to their sides. To the left of the doors is a shelf, that Shiro knows dust is growing on by the sight and is filled to the brim with books of all sizes. Further left is a slanted glass table with a few computer papers scattered. Coming to the right of the bedroom door, and opposite of the bed is another dresser, standing tall. Shiro can imagine what is in those drawers, considering the clothes are hung up. Walls are scattered and decorated with multiple vinyl records, gold and black, music albums and artists, and music rewards. There's hardly any space on the walls.

There's nothing to the right of the white closet doors, but there are several random royal blue and wine purple objects, a small sphere-looking ball that's attached to a black spotlight and his obnoxious orange shorts— sitting on the floor.

And finally, the left of the bedroom door is another closed wooden door. Shiro wonders where it leads to. But he doesn't bother trying to think about it anymore because he's scratching at his stomach as he tries to roll his legs out over the bed. Once he untangles his legs, he stands from the bed and lets out a long breath, stretching out his arms and back with a yawn.

Deciding to not venture around for too long, he makes his way out of the bedroom and is greeted with silence. The carpet tickle underneath his feet. There's a ping pong table sitting in front of him, with four red plastic cups, two paddles, and three ping pong balls scattered on the layout. A worn down, brown leather couch is set in a backward L to his right and a flat screen television is pinned up on the opposite of Shiro. Stairs are casting down to his left. There's another closed door in front of him, and one door on both sides of it—

This house is huge. And _expensive._ It makes Shiro feel oddly small. He heads towards the stairs and walks down to the level below him. The layout is the exact same, with two hockey tables instead of a ping pong table. Tv, worn couch, and doors are the same. It's quiet on this floor as well.

Did he mention expensive?

Shiro continues downwards and is greeted with a large kitchen. A warm aroma of food is curling around his nostrils. The floor tiles are cool against his feet as he quietly patters further and gazes around. The kitchen is surprisingly clean and tidy. There's a marble rectangle island horizontally in front of him. Three bar stools are aligned in front of it. Behind the island is an upside-down L marble counter, the left counter dividing the kitchen and the living room. The right is divided in half with an expensive looking double oven. A pot sits on a metal burner.

_Mewl._

Shiro glances over and sees two cats prancing over towards him. One is dusted red with its tail curled high while the other is midnight black, bushy tail swaying behind it. They both have identical silver collars that glint from the kitchen light on the ceiling.

"Hey cuties.. where'd you two come from?" he lowers onto a knee and holds his hand out for the two who come closer and sniff along his fingers. The dusted red cat is slow to get accustomed to him, but the midnight black is already nuzzling its head against his wrist. "What's your names?" he whispers, smoothing two fingers under the black cat's throat and smiles when it purrs softly. Shiro catches the silver collar and tilts it upwards.

"—Black. The other is Red," comes a deep voice from further inside the kitchen. Shiro nearly jumps out of his skin and pulls his hand back and stands. He takes notice that the man has a good three or four inches on him –and Shiro being tall enough as it is, scares the ever-loving hell out of him– and he's very, very pale. His eyes are pointed and sharp, and they bore into Shiro's very being. Strongly bleached hair drapes behind the man's shoulders and there's often strong curls behind the lower of his back, and Shiro can guess it goes down past his bottom. One large fray bends in front of his face and dips below his ears.

Shiro doesn't know what to do, other than keeping quiet, scared if he says anything more, the man will snap.

Eyes rack his frame once more and Shiro feels bile rise in his throat. Anxiety picks at his stomach.

"Mmn. Seems like he forgot a playtoy," the man speaks, tilts his chin at Shiro and turns back onto his heels.

_Playtoy?_

"I, um—"

"—If you are looking around for Keith, then he is outside. If you are hungry for breakfast, then you will need to wait for a little longer," the man's voice is very thick with an accent that Shiro can't place. When Shiro does not respond, the man huffs a breath and knocks his knuckles against the marble counters four times. "Good God, get a grip and take a seat somewhere. There is nothing you need be afraid of."

Shiro quietly takes a seat in the middle bar stool and hears himself swallow. He hopes the man didn't hear it. The man in front of him twitches as he cocks the stove on and Shiro hears the burner hum.

"I'm Shiro," he hears more than his brain can render the action. The man doesn't say anything else and Shiro feels himself frown. "Thank you for making breakfast…" he trails off, in hopes for some sort of conversation.

"Do not ask silly questions that you are not prepared to hear," comes as his answer. Shiro's eye twitches in a short annoyance and he purses his lips.

"Right. Well, where is everyone? You'd think some people would still be here," Shiro clears his throat.

It seemed to have been a wrong question, or something Shiro must have done seconds prior because the man slams whatever what was in his hands down against the marble counter and takes a heavy breath. There's silence then, one word, "Keith."

Keith?

Does he need to get Keith?

" _Keith_ ," the man nearly snarls out.

He seems like a nice guy.

Shiro is up in a heartbeat and he's quietly pattering his feet along the kitchen tile. The cats mewl and prance behind him as he quickens his pace. He does not want to be in this man's presence any longer than he has to.

Shiro is so caught up in his now spiked anxiety from the man that he didn't notice of the cleaned living room and its decorations, nor did he notice the patio doors in front of him roll open and cool air breeze against his skin. What he does notice is that there's suddenly something wet and cold pressing against him. Very cold.

"Kinda clumsy, mmh?" a voice cooes. It's not too deep to be the man from the kitchen, and it brings a sense of familiarity. Shiro blinks up and comes face to face with darkly violet eyes. Something glints and as much as Shiro feels the sudden urge to drop to his knees, he just swallows the bile in his throat instead.

"He needs you in the kitchen. I– I don't know what I did but he's upset," Shiro croaks out and drops his head into his metal hand before combing the abiotic fingers through his black locks. His skin and blood hand come to pat at the spotted soaked shirt he's wearing.

The man in front of him is a quick second before a cold index finger comes under his chin to tilt his head up. "Hey," Shiro realizes that the man is Keith and he suddenly feels heavy with relief.

"Red— _Keith_ ," Shiro nearly sobs and drops his arm, letting Keith hold his face in his palms. He doesn't mind the coldness.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Here, do me a favor, hm? Can you go into the room behind us and get me a towel?" Keith says softly. He seems to respond to Shiro's shaken up nerves. He nods weakly. "Okay. The towels are in the bathroom on the right when you walk in. I'll take care of it, okay? You didn't upset him," Keith continues to soothe him.

Shiro nearly trips over his own feet when Keith's hands move away from his face. He watches Keith who hasn't moved in front of him and he feels his bottom lip tremble.

_~~He missed his meds last night.~~ _

Keith frowns at him and leans on his tiptoes to press a cool kiss against Shiro's lips. "Go and get a towel and I'll get everything calmed down," Keith whispers. Shiro swallows again and hesitates to move but he slowly forces himself to move and go to the painted door that is indeed behind Keith. He didn't even realize it.

Blood and skin hand take hold of the knob but the door swings open with ease, so Shiro hurries inside and closes the door quietly behind him. He releases a shaky breath and closes his eyes. His nerves are trembling and his fingers are tingling, and his brain is too wired to try and think of how he calms down. He knows something with colors. That's all he can remember.

Blood throb against his skull and then there's a quiet knock on the door behind him. "Shiro? It's Keith, can you let me in?" Shiro slowly creeps his eyes open. It takes him a long time before he steps back and slowly cracks the door open for Keith to slide in. But Keith is dry besides him and in a pair of clothes. Shiro's eyebrows twitch. He was supposed to get a towel, wasn't he?

"You've been in here for a few minutes. You didn't respond to your name being called so I came to check on you," Keith says softly. Shiro doesn't catch up, so he continues. "I dried off and changed into some clothes already. Are you doing okay?"

Shiro's breathing increases and then he's falling forward and wrapping his arms tightly around Keith's middle and holding him close. He _can't—_

"Shiro?" Keith responds immediately, arms slinking around Shiro's back.

Shiro turns to bury his face in Keith's neck. "Ground– ground me. Can't," his voice shakes, " _ground_ ," he begs.

"Okay, okay. Focus on my pulse, take a slow breath every other pulse of mine," Keith whispers. So Shiro does, he lets his body feel Keith's hidden vein in his neck and slowly inhales. Keith mimics his actions. "Take a seat with me, Shiro. Let's sit down," Shiro keeps his arms tight around Keith as the two bend their knees and take a seat against the door.

"Okay, Shiro, I need you to look up so we can ground you. Look up for me," Keith whispers. Shiro slowly moves his head and moves so he's facing Keith. His metal fingers dig into Keith's shirt. "Give me three things that are red."

Shiro takes a beat, hesitant to look away from Keith. He darts his eyes around the room and then looks back at Keith. "Your name, your nickname. The bedsheets are maroon red. The shirt you gave me," Shiro croaks.

"Good job. Now name me two things that are black."

"Studs. These ones," Shiro's skin and blood hand trembles as he runs his thumb across the two black ball piercings underneath Keith's lips. "Pajama pants are black," Shiro continues.

"You're doing good. Name me one thing that's peachy colored."

"You. Your skin," Shiro says immediately and takes a slow breath through his nose.

"Are you doing better?" Keith quietly speaks.

"I, um, missed my meds last night by staying here. I'm usually not like this. I'm sorry," Shiro says.

"Hey, don't apologize. It's normal, okay? You're not in trouble for having an attack," Keith frowns. "You're still shaken up, let me help you with a bath or shower and I'll get us some breakfast before I drop you off. Does that sound good?"

Shiro just nods.

So now the two stand under the harsh and constant spray of water, lips slicking together and bodies pressed against the other like their lives depend on it. Which for Shiro –at least mentally right now– does.

"Are you sure?" it was the first thing Keith asked when Shiro had stepped into the large shower.

"I don't want to make it as an excuse but I still, need... support," Shiro said over the sound of water. So Keith had removed his clothes and stepped in with Shiro. He allowed Shiro to hold and lean against him. Purely for physical need. But then Shiro accidentally rubbed against Keith and Keith made a noise in the back of his throat and then he was gone from there—

Shiro had the slight disadvantage — since he had to take off his metal prosthetic and leave it in Keith's room because it couldn't get wet — but he was making it all worthwhile for Keith by using his sheer muscle and height. Keith was pressed up against the corner of the shower stall, legs wrapped tightly around Shiro's sturdy waist, one arm curled under Shiro's arm while the other cupped the side of his face and neck. Shiro had his left arm hooked around Keith's waist and held him up, just to feel him as he bites and sucks hickies into his collarbone. The water was not so constant where they shifted so it was easier for everything. Especially to hear Keith's grunts and pants.

Keith stiffened above him when Shiro teethed along a certain line in his neck and Shiro felt the man's legs tremble around him. "Fuck, Shiro.. _more.._ oh, God," he moaned into the hot air, puffs of white escaping his lips as he breathes out. Shiro's black flock of hair tickles Keith's skin. He was so hot against him, so rough, so smooth. Shiro wanted more.

He didn't know why he was acting like a possessive lover –especially when he had only known Keith for not even a day. He didn't know why he was biting so hard into his skin, so desperate to leave marks and make sure that Keith wouldn't be able to hide them after this. He didn't know.

_~~Ground.~~ _

All he knows is that Keith isn't objecting and he's begging for more, if anything, and is biting harshly at his bottom lip. His black studs are aggravated and are starting to bleed.

Shiro leans up and catches Keith's lips in his own. It's a sloppy, wet kiss but it's getting the dirtiest and guttural noises out of the two and Shiro cannot be bothered to change it. Keith takes like the pancakes from downstairs. "No," he grunts into Keith's mouth. "You're hurting your lip. Stop," he drops Keith's lips with a wet smack and leans down to drag his tongue across the piercings. He can feel the skin throb and he tastes a punch of iron. "I want to hear you. Let me hear you, please," he's whispering again Keith's swollen and parted lips and goes back down to suckling at his skin.

God, it's so much. There's so much skin against skin and it's making Shiro delirious. He wants to wreak havoc on Keith's freckled body. But he can't. So he does what he knows he's allowed to do and just bites.

_~~Need to be ground.~~ _

"Oh, fuck, Shiro.. fuck," Keith is moaning and gasping in gulps of air like he can't breathe. He claws his blunt fingernails against Shiro's back who hisses when the hot water sprays over them. "Please, please, oh God.." he's whining, he's whining so prettily and nicely and Shiro can't help but to give him everything.

It's too much.

Shiro shifts the two so Keith is able to support himself on Shiro's thigh while he drops his left hand down and takes Keith into his palm. He's hot and throbbing and so thick that Shiro's throat tightens. "Come on, baby, that's it. Let it go," he breathes, liquid eyes taking in the harsh red and purple spots he's carved into his skin and looks back up into Keith's eyes.

They're half-lidded and so big, Shiro wants to drown in them. His mouth is parted to let out his noises and Shiro knows that the metal ball rests in there. "Shiro — Shiro…" Keith is groaning and bucking up into his hand and he's so desperate for release.

"That's it. Come for me, Keith. I've got you," Shiro encourages and moves his palm in a long stroke, tightening his fingers at he nears Keith's tip then loosens and strokes down to his base.

Keith comes into his hand after the fifth stroke. He's trembling and gasping and moaning and Shiro swallows it all up as he milks Keith to oversensitivity. "S-shit!" Keith screams and throws his head back, his entire body buzzing. "Shiro, mmh.. you too, come for me too," he moans pathetically and drops his hand from Shiro's face, down to where Shiro is leaking profusely but it's being washed away by the water.

Keith takes him in hand and shifts his thumb to brush against his slit every time. "K-Keith.. I won't — last long.."

_~~Ground…~~ _

"That's good. Very good. I need it. Come on," Keith pleads. His hand works fast and Shiro is jerking his hips up and then he's spilling over both of him and Keith. Shiro has to remove his hand from Keith's softening cock so he can hold himself up against the wall.

Keith still works his cock and shifts his thumb again to bring his own cock and press it against Shiro's. Their cum smush together and it makes the entire thing hotter than Shiro wants to admit. Keith gets every last drop from Shiro before the man is slowly shifting them back.

Shiro's sitting crisscrossed on the shower floor with Keith in his lap. The two kiss dizzily and tiredly, limbs softly caressing each other's bodies as the water still sprays and washes them clean.

_~~Ground.~~ _

Two and a half hours later, Shiro is cleaned up and in a new pair of clothes that Keith generously allowed him to wear; —Keith has changed into his own simple clothing, a blood red hoodie and some baggy grey shorts with flip-flops. Hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he's still wearing his black fingerless gloves. He still looks attractive, in Shiro's honest opinion— and is being dropped off at his apartment complex after they had gotten breakfast.

They had gotten blueberry muffins and chocolate covered donut minis. Keith also threw in getting Shiro strawberry milk and three sausage croissants. Shiro felt bad about the price, even though it was small, but Keith refused to let him get anything less.

On the way to Shiro's apartment, they snacked on their meals and Shiro had finished all of his food before Keith did. And his anxiety had slowly but surely calmed down. His nerves still twitched at times but overall, he was good.

"Thank you, again, for dropping me off and letting me spend the night. And for the clothes.. and breakfast," Shiro muses through the open front passenger seat. Keith lolls his head towards Shiro, a small genuine smile on his face.

"It's no problem, Shiro. You can keep the clothes–"

"–No, Keith. I just can't take your clothes," Shiro shakes his head.

"I hardly wear any of the clothes in my closet, I don't mind. Keep it so you'll think of me," Keith gives a wink.

Shiro flushes and nods his head. He nervously taps the rim of the open window, making Keith raise an eyebrow.

"Something else you want, Shiro?" it's a soft tone.

"I, uh– was wondering when I could possibly see you again? I– I know you don't do that sort of thing bu—" he's cut off with Keith's snort of amusement.

"We're holding up a mini party in our cabin in two or so weeks. Just us and about ten close friends. It'll be over the weekend. Would you like to join us?"

Shiro nearly hesitates but gives a small smile and nods. "Sounds fun. I think I can handle it."

"Good. Let me give you my number then, so I can keep you updated," it's a simple thing, so simple but Shiro feels his heart pound in his ears and a childish smile grows on his face. "I don't have any paper, lemme see your arm," Keith is holding a black pen in his fingers. Shiro doesn't hesitate to tug the sleeve back to his elbow and hold out his skin and blood arm. Keith licks the tip of the pen and gently pushes the ink across Shiro's arm as he writes his number. Shiro watches him in a daze.

"There. Sorry about writing on your arm, it'll wash off," Keith rolls his head back as Shiro slinks his arm back and looks down. Oddly enough, he doesn't want the ink to wash off anytime soon.

"It's good. I'll send you a text when I get upstairs. Thank you, again, for everything. Drive safe, Keith," he taps Keith's jeep lightly.

"I'll see you around, Shiro," Keith suckles his bottom lip in his teeth as Shiro steps back and watches him gear into drive then roll away from Shiro's destination. Shiro watches his car with a dreamy sigh and looks back down at his arm again.

The only thought going through his mind is that he can't wait to see Keith again as he trots upstairs to his level and knocks on his apartment door.

It's nearly two seconds before the knob is twisting and the door swings open and his roommate, Hunk, is standing there with a worried face. Shiro can't even get a word out before he's being pulled inside and into a crushing hug.

"Where've you been, man? You weren't answering our calls, and then we found your phone in your room and we got worried because we didn't know what happened, and we–" Hunk is babbling and Shiro feels terrible as he pats Hunk's back.

"I'm sorry, Hunk. I didn't think about bringing my phone last night to the party. But I'm okay," Shiro tries to ease his roommates' nerves.

"Shiro!" comes his friend's voice, Matt.

"What the heck man! We couldn't find you this morning, we thought something happened," there's Lance.

"Red," comes Pidge's whisper. Shiro doesn't hear it because he's being toppled by three more people trying to enclose him in a hug.

It takes a good ten minutes before Shiro has managed to get his friends to calm down and ease their nerves. They all decided to stay a few hours at Shiro's apartment, just to make sure. And all the while his friends were chattering amongst themselves as they started a movie, Shiro was dazing out, thinking about the number on his arm, thinking about Keith.

He could not wait until he saw Keith again.

The last thing on his mind was the fact that he still didn't find out what ticked off that man in the kitchen.

And because he took a liking to Keith in such a short time, he looked forward every time his phone would ping for the next three weeks since Keith's party. Something small, usually a sound of annoyance, a distraction, was something that Shiro was beginning to miss and become accustomed to.

They texted often, for minutes, hours, days, weeks. They developed a routine, always a good morning text, and whenever Shiro was out of class, during the entire day. They would end the day with a goodnight text. Often times, whenever Shiro couldn't text because he was working, he and Keith would call and talk that way. They would last for hours on end.

The last text that had been sent was from Shiro, with _pork cutlet bowl._ Keith was wondering what he was eating.

That was five hours ago when Shiro had just woken up and was wondering what to have for breakfast after he brushed his teeth. But it was currently that he was making the food, with his phone charging in his bedroom.

There's an ushered knock on his door when he's just finishing chopping up his pork for his cutlet bowl. "Hold on!" he calls, taking a smooth slice. The pork crunches under the blade. The knock comes again, louder. "Coming!" he sighs and settles his knife down and pats his hands on his old pair of sweats. "Hunk, buddy, you have to stop leaving your key," the doorknob is twisted and is pulled open but it's not Hunk waiting for him.

It's Lotor. And he does not look very pleased. Shiro feels very underdressed when Lotor's eyes overlook his form. The man is standing in light purple dress-like pants, a white turtle neck, and black dress shoes. His bleached hair has been pulled back into a high ponytail, showcasing his neck. Compared to Shiro who's been in his old sweats with too many stains and a faded white tank top. His hair had been matted to his head from the steaming of preparing his food. No socks or houseshoes.

He should mention that he found out that the man in the kitchen was Keith's brother, who goes by the name of Lotor.

"Oh, um, Lotor? What are you doing here?" Shiro asks.

"I take it you have not been on your phone in a while? My brother has tried to reach you for the past twenty minutes to make sure you were ready," Lotor grumbles out. When Shiro just blinks, and the gears slowly turn, Lotor pinches the bridge of his nose. "For the love of–"

"–at least come inside. It's warmer in here," Shiro offers and steps back to crane the door open some more. Lotor takes a long, uncomfortable beat and just grunts as he steps inside. "I'm sorry about not answering Keith. I had to charge my phone, and I only have one charger that's in my bedroom."

"Mmn," Lotor responds, not even flicking his head to look around the apartment. It's nothing too special. From the door, the kitchen is to the immediate right. A little further and in between is the living room on the left and the small square for a dining room to the right. There's an opening for a hallway right across the front door. To the right in the hall, is a bedroom, which is Hunks. To the left is the bathroom. Shiro's room hides behind the wall in the living room, on the left, in the corner of the space.

"I, um.. I'll go and get changed. I'll be less than five minutes," Shiro ducks his head as he makes a beeline for his bedroom and then a left into his connected bathroom, passing his closet doors. He flicks the light on and leans over the counter as he watches his reflection. He looks greasy. "Oh boy," he sighs and bends his metal prosthetic hand behind his head to tug off the tank top and toss it into the clothes basket in the corner of the bathroom. Makes quick work of the sweats and tosses those as well. Not trusting himself of wondering if his boxers are clean because his anxiety of feeling rushed, he removes the last piece of clothing and tosses it as well.

Tiptoes as he covers himself, into his room. He tugs the top right drawer open and picks one of his comfiest pair of boxers and slips it on, letting it snap against his hipbones.

"Oh, by the way, you should wear something warm," comes Lotor's voice from the living room.

Shiro doesn't question him as he slides the drawer closed and squats down to open the bottom right drawer and taps around for his softest pair of long sweatpants. It's old and worn and has too many sewn lines in it, but it does the job of keeping his legs warm. Tugging them on, he uses his foot to close the drawer shut and goes over to his closet doors and pulls the wooden doorway open, walking inside and eyeing in the dim-darkness for a clean tank top and a hoodie. He feels around for the fabrics and manages to tug them on over his head.

"Hopefully we will make it within thirty or so minutes," Lotor's voice comes again.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. When did the party start?" Shiro calls back as he pats down his hoodie, which is white, he's able to see once he walks out of the closet and closes the doors, going back into his bathroom. He repeatedly pats at his face to encourage blood flow and turns his faucet on. Lets his hands puddle with cool water before running his digits through his black locks to try and look presentable.

"Two and a half hours ago. It's three forty-two right now," Lotor answers. Shiro turns the faucet off and strides back into his bedroom to grab a pair of socks and slip them on.

"You said it was going to be cold wherever we're going?"

"Yes."

Shiro stands and looks down at his metal fingers that silently glint at him. There's shuffling of fabric then two loud pops, and objects clacking together and then Shiro is walking out of his room, stuffing something into his side pocket.

Lotor turns around to face Shiro and his blue irises catch the limb right sleeve of Shiro's hoodie. "Mmn. No metal arm?" he asks, no hint of mockery or sneer in his tone. Shiro is grateful for it and he shakes his head. Lotor accepts it as an answer. "Very well then. Are you ready?"

"Let me put on my shoes and put up my food then yes," Shiro goes to his front door and slips one foot after the other into his worn tennis shoes. The back of the shoes curl and rub against his bone, but he ignores it as he manhandles his rice porklet bowl, covers it with plastic wrap and gets it into the fridge.

"Did I interrupt your lunch?" Lotor questions.

"No, no. I was just making a snack. I'm good," Shiro brushes it off. Lotor skims over him for another second before shrugging and letting it drop. "Alright. Let's go."

Shiro follows behind Lotor as they close his apartment door and head out to where a car's engine rumbles in the distance. The cool November air crisps by. They jog down the two flights of stairs and Shiro is not surprised that the car Lotor is driving is an expensive breed. An all sleek black model with the door rims red. "She's gorgeous, this one. Does she have a name?" The door seems to register Shiro's presence, or something, because it hisses as it slides open. "Woah," he breathes and ducks down to take a seat on his side. Lotor follows beside him and takes a seat.

"Kova," Lotor says as soon as the doors hiss and slide closed. Shiro notices the tightness in his throat. He doesn't push for an answer.

"It's a beautiful name," he says instead.

"Mmn," it's a soft sigh. Lotor pushes something on his dashboard and then a warm breeze bursts through the air vents. "She goes fast, you might want a seatbelt," is all Shiro gets as a warning before Lotor is gearing Kova into reverse and then they're cruising backwards, what seems to be a millisecond before Lotor is shifting them into drive and then they're off. Shiro's brain gets a whiplash and he's groaning as he sinks back into the passenger seat.

"Oh God, you're an ass, Lotor. I didn't even get my seatbelt on," Shiro grumbles. Lotor gives a small snicker and there's another beep of something. The windows screen down and the visor above hisses as it creaks open. Once cool, now brisked cold air, pricks at Shiro's skin.

"I did give warning," Lotor has a smirk on his face like he's proud of himself. The fucker.

And though Shiro normally always, always wears a seatbelt when he's in a car, something about just being around Keith –and now, possibly his brother– he felt like letting loose for a small bit. It wouldn't hurt anyone. And Lotor didn't seem like the type to do something incredibly reckless.

He hopes.

There's a good two minutes of silence between the two, other than the breezing air. Something he had learned about Lotor, he hates silence.

"What made you take interest in my brother?"

Another thing. He does not like to beat around the bush.

"He, um— he's comforting. I know you've seen my scars, from what I show. And my arm," Shiro looks down at his ghost limb and swallows. Takes a breath before continuing, "since day one, he's been good to me. He doesn't treat me differently because of anything that I do or don't have. Just equally. He's never brought up my scars either, even when I've asked him my fair share of personal questions when we started talking. He doesn't push any lines or boundaries. But he doesn't just ignore them," Shiro hopes that he doesn't have to dwell much more on it. Hopes it's a good enough response.

"I take it you find comfort in that itself?"

"I do. I've been used to it being such a hot topic that it's just a thing now. But he's treated me normally, despite the scars."

"Perhaps he has not asked because he does not want to scare you off."

Shiro gives a small shrug, recalling their text messages of questions. "I guess. But it's a nice feeling, too. I've been through a lot since I was a child," he occupies himself with grabbing ahold of his empty sleeve and twisting it into a large knot so it's not awkward looking.

"I assume you'll find it on your own terms then," Lotor speaks.

"Mmn. What did you mean the day after the party, by calling me a playtoy?" Shiro asks.

Lotor tilts his head back as he picks up speed. At this point, Shiro is starting to see more land than buildings. They've been really passing by. He didn't even notice the traffic they passed.

"I am not sure how long you have talked with my brother, but if the topic has ever come up, then you should know that he is known for quite a few things."

"Like?" Shiro teeters off.

"For one, smoking the hardest blunts as he likes to pack them heavily. Second, for his often anger issues which result in him picking fights and getting suspended. Three, the hundreds of rumors about his obsession with knives. And four, for sleeping with nearly half the campus."

The way Lotor speaks of it, so monotone doesn't settle very well with Shiro's nerves. His face twists up of something that he knows Lotor can't name. But instead, Lotor continues.

"Did you not know?"

Shiro does not answer, but his silence speaks for him. Lotor gives a sigh beside him.

"I do not mean to cause any offense. But it is something you should know if you wish to try and make a relationship with him work."

"I'm sure you have anger issues, too. If you forgot your little moment that same day," Shiro nearly barks at him. He did not enjoy Lotor picking at both him and Keith.

"I do. But my brother and I have different ways to cope with them. We have tried medication, therapy, hit the gym and everything else on the list. My brother has stuck to marijuana and often times alcohol. If the day is very bad, then he will drink until he loses consciousness. But other than that, marijuana has worked for him."

"I guess you express your anger by flaunting in your expenses?"

"Sure. I use marijuana as well, but it is not as often as my brother."

"How long have you two been smoking?"

"I started at fourteen. Keith began at sixteen."

"How old is Keith again?"

"Twenty-three."

"So," Shiro does the quick math. "Seven years?" Lotor nods. "If I'm allowed to ask, how old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"So thirteen years for you," Shiro glances back at Lotor, who's calmly leaning against his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other holding a rolled blunt that hasn't been burnt yet. His white hair flings all around, but they never once block Lotor's view.

"Do tell me if this happens to cross a line, but have you considered marijuana as a prescription instead of your medication?"

Shiro licks his chapped lips as he looks back outside. At this point, there's nothing around them. Just the road and nature. The air is crisper against his skin. He assumes they're getting close to their destination.

"I haven't, no. I didn't want to become codependent on it and have it change my relationships with things," Shiro answers simply.

"How would it change your relationships?"

"My friends aren't already too fond of me taking as much medication as it is. And I'm sure if I start smelling like weed, then their suspicion and resistance is just going to worsen."

"I do not understand how or why their opinion matters. If it can medically help you, then I would use it."

Shiro just sighs. "I don't know. I'll have to do some research and see what happens."

"Well, if you ever need or want any, you know who to call."

"Thank you," Shiro clears his throat.

"Last question."

"Go for it."

"Would you like to smoke one, right now?"

Shiro turns his head so quick towards Lotor that his head spins. "Huh?"

"My joints are not harsh like my brother, nor are my blunts. But we do have a taste difference. I prefer a more strong taste that will stay in your mouth afterwards."

"What flavor do you usually have?"

"Cinnamon."

"Hopefully not the dentist kind of cinnamon."

Lotor gives a snicker. "Of course not. Open the compartment above us. There's a pack and a small square lighter in there."

Shiro can't help but raise an eyebrow as he presses the compartment and watches it tilt open. Shiro feels around and grabs one roll and pulls the square lighter out.

"Where do you even hide your packs?"

"Everywhere really. Joints are easier to hide since they're smaller. Blunts are a bit tougher but never impossible."

"Huh," is all Shiro replies with as he pushes the compartment closed and eases the end of the joint in between his lips. He's right-handed, not left, so it's a tad harder for him to flick the cap of the lighter opened and hold it under the paper. The butt lights in orange and reds before grey tendrils curl out. Shiro takes a slow inhale, and feels his throat convulse. The flavor and smoke is not something he's exactly used to.

"Light mine," Lotor settles his larger roll of paper in between his lips, Shiro is positive the larger one is a blunt, while he's handling a joint. Lotor leans to the side, his eyes focused in front of him all the while. Shiro shifts and circles the lighters under Lotor's blunt. Its ends burn a darker, hazed orange before grey curls. It's hypnotizing almost. Lotor gives a small hum of appreciation and sits up straight. Shiro flicks the cap closed.

Once it's safe to set down, Shiro breathes out from his nose and inhales once more before pulling the joint from his mouth. He coughs slightly then clears his throat. "Woah," he breathes as he closes his eyes.

Shiro doesn't even register when he's finished the joint and the fact that they're pulling up on a large hill. The air breezing in is biting now, and Shiro feels himself shiver. Lotor besides him takes notice and he gives a light noise. "My apologies if you are cold. We will be there in the next five minutes. We've made good time, too."

"I don't feel like that was a thirty-minute ride," Shiro lolls his head back.

"Because it wasn't. It was not even twenty minutes."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten pulled over."

Lotor just gives a smirk towards Shiro and then Shiro can feel the purr of the engine as he picks up the speed once more. As much Shiro should be freaking out at the speed since he can see the bright red numbers blare 97 and increasing, he doesn't have it in him to try and voice his slight concern. The mountain has smooth turns, and Lotor is using it to his advantage.

As they ride the top of the hill, Shiro is able to tilt his head halfway outside the window. And though the breeze is bitter and bites, Shiro doesn't mind it when he sees a well worn down cabin, sitting in the presence of the mountain and hill that cranes over the land.

"Holy shit– that's your property?" Shiro gasps.

"Me and my brother's, yes. We found it a few years back."

"Keith said it was a pub?" Shiro sits back into his seat. Lotor nods his head.

"Had enough money to renovate it at the time. Paid for all the land around it, and opened it up more. We used to live in it for a year or two, then we got the house we live in now."

"That's.. really cool, actually. It looks really small and cozy from here."

"Great insulation too. Makes good fires when you're smoking smores."

Shiro just blinks in interest.

"You said all of that land is yours, too?"

"The entire mountain is," Lotor says easily.

Shiro whirls back towards him. "Wait, are you serious?"

Lotor tilts his head in question. "Am I supposed to reply with a 'no'?"

Shiro puffs his cheeks out. Butterflies of anxiety is fluttering in his stomach. "How– how did you get all that money? If I'm allowed to ask."

"Ah. Well, our Mother passed a few months after my brother was born, and our Father got her lives pay. But then our Father walked out on us when I was six years old. My brother was two."

Shiro's face drops in an instant. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. What happened has happened. I nor my brother have gotten over it yet, of course. As it has led to our anger issues, but we are not in the thick of it fully rendering, I suppose."

Shiro watches Lotor with a faint light in his eyes. He can understand. He just nods his head, not wanting to ask for much more, even if Lotor says it doesn't bother him.

"We're coming up on the cabin now. Look to your right," Lotor speaks.

Shiro listens and gazes out. The cabin is much larger than he expected, but it's smaller than a normal sized restaurant. It's gorgeous. Lotor is slowing down, yet the engine still purrs and then they're driving on gravel and Shiro silently enjoys the crunching of the rocks underneath the tires. There's roughly seven cars, not including the sleek black Jeep Wrangler parked in its glory.

"Oh, that's Keith's," Shiro murmurs more to himself.

"It is," Lotor replies and smoothly comes to park beside it. He presses a button on the dashboard again and the windows scroll up and the visor hisses closed. The warm air –that Shiro didn't even feel the entire ride– comes to a stop. The engine of the car rumbles out and then their doors are hissing and rising open. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Shiro uses his skin and blood hand to help stabilize himself as he slowly steps out of the car. "Keith said there was going to be about ten people?" he asks as the door hisses closed. Lotor nods his head.

"We planned on having it just a tad bit larger but my brother had wanted it rather small for a while. So we shortened it."

Shiro is thankful and bashful that Keith went through on his word and kept the party small, for him.

"Take a look around. We have all the time out here," Lotor breathes as he stuffs his hands into his pant pockets. The car beeps twice, four times before Lotor is walking away and towards the wooden patio of the cabin. Shiro gazes around as he follows, taking in the widely open space of the land. If he were to walk to the crested edge of the hill, he could gaze out onto the city that once was too big for him. It's small and pretty now.

Shiro steps onto the wood and feels a smile creep onto his face when it creaks and groans under his feet. Something about it is comforting to him. Lotor is standing at the side of the opened screen door with it opened against him. "This is really nice, Lotor. Thank you for bringing me along," Shiro offers a gentle smile as he walks to the door behind the screen doorway, twisting the golden handle. It groans under the force of being pushed open.

Lotor follows in behind him as both doors slide closed. Shiro is greeted with a heavy but faint smell of wine, with a thin hallway, though it's large enough for two people lanes. He gazes the wooden walls as he walks further inside, the floors under him creak. The walls are nearly bare but there are six frames as he passes, all varying in stages of Lotor and Keith's ages. 

Further down, there's a large opening and Shiro peeks his head before slowly easing into view. Lotor comes to stand beside him. The group of people are all huddled up on and in front of a large leather couch, nearly all of them wrapped around in thick comforter blankets. A large flat screen is pinned in the horizontal line above a set of covered glass windows. An old school horror movie, Scream, plays. And Shiro realizes that there are blankets nailed over the glass panes, maybe to keep the warmth in.

Shiro hadn't realized that Lotor had moved from his spot and that Keith has come up to stand beside him now.

"Hey, pup," Keith calls.

Shiro jumps just a touch and blinks back into focus, looking down to connect eyes with Keith. An immediate smile curves onto his face. "Pup? I didn't know that was my nickname," he stuffs his skin and blood hand into his hoodie pocket.

"Mmn, well it is now," Keith smiles back, one of genuine fondness. He has no shame that now the group has paused the movie and all the attention has landed on the two who stand happily in each others presence. Keith rocks on his heels. Shiro takes notice that he's wearing a theme of purple; faded purple sleep shirt, dark purple pajama pants and hippo covered house shoes. His trademark black fingerless gloves, hair pulled back into a ponytail still there.

"Is that so? What can I nickname you then?" Shiro asks. Keith makes a smooth move to lean on his tiptoes and wrap his arms around Shiro's neck. The action is so simple, so soft, that Shiro feels his face flush again.

"There are people watching us," Shiro whispers.

"Good. Then they'll see this," Keith leans further up and closes his eyes as he presses his lips against Shiro's. His gloved hand slides down to cup his face. Shiro didn't even register his body moving on his own but his only arm is coming to wrap around Keith's waist and pull him closer, responding to his kiss with an urgency.

There's a loud whistle from behind them. It makes Shiro pull back from Keith and glance up, feeling himself heat up in embarrassment. His attention is snapped back to Keith who had leaned back up and licked his bottom lip.

"Get a room, you two!" Someone hollers.

"Mmn, good idea," Keith breathes against Shiro's lips and takes ahold of his hand to lead him off away from the group. Shiro doesn't even have time to look around because he's being pulled into a room. The door clicks behind him before he's pushed back against it with lips on his again.

"Fuck, Keith," Shiro moans in between kisses, bringing his arm back around Keith who eagerly rocks up against the meat of his thigh that parts out.

"I missed you," Keith huffs, freckled arms coming up to comb through Shiro's grown underside of his head. "I'm so glad you didn't shave this part yet."

"Why is that?"

"Because I can pull on it," Keith pants.

"You're very tempting, you know," Shiro smirks. "But I can taste the sugar and apples on your tongue. And if we do anything, I want you to remember it. So how about we take a nap and we'll see when we wake up?"

Keith just gives a throaty groan. "You said you liked the sugary taste, though."

Shiro shakes his head and brings his skin and blood hand up to brush his thumb against Keith's bottom lip who follows the digit with his tongue. "No can do, Kitten."

Keith whines at the nickname, fucking _whines_. "Call me a Kitten again," he whispers.

"Kitten," Shiro cooes. "Come on, let's take a quick nap. I'll be beside you when you wake up," he offers a smile.

"Mmmn," Keith huffs and slowly eases a step back from Shiro. "You're a mean pup."

"It'll be worth it in the end, Kitten. Just a small nap," Shiro promises.

Keith steps back against Shiro and grabs the rim of the back of Shiro's hoodie to pull him closer as he walks back, Shiro forward until they both fall against the bed that was settled in the corner of the room. Shiro can't be bothered to look around, because Keith looks so dazed and pretty underneath him and Shiro wants nothing more to do than kiss along his freckled neck.

But instead he flops beside Keith and the two get comfortable and curl up against the other. Keith sits up for a short moment and then he's spreading out a comforter blanket and settles it above the two. Shiro had craned up to tug his hoodie off, with the help of Keith. He pulls the pillow for his head while Keith makes a pillow of his meaty upper arm.

"Mmn, goodnight Shiro," Keith whispers.

Shiro smiles and closes his eyes. "Goodnight, Keith."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter, apologies that it's two days late. I think it's really coming together though, just like Keith and Shiro ;)
> 
> Enjoy! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'll keep you open 'til the sunset_   
>  _Speakin' in tongues_   
>  _Yeah, we ain't done yet.._   
>  _Don't take my verses out of context_   
>  _I know it's weighin' on your conscience_
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> Chase Atlantic - Church

_Despite the fact, psychopaths actually have a proper working sex agenda. They live off of the high, the rush it gives them. Because it's the one thing that's natural about them._

.... 

His nose is tingling with a warm smell of apples and sugar. It smells like spring when the trees have bloomed and the flowers spread their petals out to bask in the sun. It's comforting. Shiro likes it. When he peaks his eyes open, the space around them is dark and the air is crisply cool. It's nice, though. Dimly in front of him, he can make out the edge of Keith's sleeping face. His breath is warm against his arm.

Shiro looks down to his right arm and shakes the amputated stub from under the blankets. An odd feeling washes through him. Bile rises in his throat.

"Shiro?" comes Keith's gravelly voice. "Are you okay?" there's a soft yawn.

"Yes, I'm okay," Shiro is quick to shake off the topic but Keith doesn't seem to believe him because he's shifting and is snuggling his right arm underneath Shiro while his left arm curls over his middle. Feels the knot of his fabric sleeve.

Silence for a beat, then, "Shiro? Where's your prosthetic?"

"I left it at my apartment."

"Shiro—"

"Keith."

"I'm not upset with you. I just want to know why you left it, and how you took it off," Keith says gently.

Shiro sighs and shifts, moving closer to Keith so he can feel the thump of his heart against his forehead when he's pressed against Keith's chest. "It malfunctions in certain conditions. In cold weather, it overheats and burns the stub of my arm. Being in water for too long makes the entire thing spark out. It's only happened once or twice," Shiro mumbles. "Been electrocuted by it. Not fun," he laughs weakly.

Keith doesn't respond for a few beats. Shiro thinks he fell back asleep so he looks up to try and see if he can make anything out.

"How long have you had the prosthetic?" Keith whispers out.

"Ahh, since I was eighteen. I had to gain more muscle mass before being able to apply for achieving one."

"They didn't just give you one and change it as your body grows?"

"Unfortunately, no. I don't know all of the in's and out's dealing with it, but they were advancing a new mechanical technology thingy. And I had to be of legal age to try it. As you can see, there's still twinks that need to be fixed with it."

"Do you have appointments with it?"

"Every month. It's more refreshing with it off, in my opinion. But they're helping with money and the least I can do is wear it and help them progress. Even if it's slow," Shiro breathes out.

"Mmn.." Keith trails off.

"What are you thinking about up there?"

"Honestly? If it vibrates," Keith answers.

A loud, genuine snort escapes Shiro's throat before he can help it. "Ohhh, you cannot be serious," he laughs lightly against Keith. Keith responds with a chuckle of his own.

"I guess we should be getting back home now, mmn?" Keith mumbles once the two have calmed down. "It's dark out, so I think it's about time that everyone's heading out."

"We… don't have to? We can stay the weekend," Shiro whispers out. "Plus, we slept the entire time today."

Keith gives a low hum. "Are you sure? What about your meds? Aren't you supposed to take them every night?"

"Well yes, but I took my dose early when Lotor had came to pick me up."

"Why did you take it then?"

"I don't think me and him ever spoke to each other since the day after the party because he was.. just uncomfortable being around me. And it just made my anxiety go up and I couldn't–" Shiro tries to explain but Keith calms him by rubbing small circles in his side.

"You don't have to explain yourself. Anxiety just happens sometimes in certain situations. You can't help it. It's okay," Keith says softly. Shiro takes a breath. "We can stay the weekend and I'll take you back on Sunday. Does that sound good?" Shiro gives a nod. "Okay, but if your anxiety happens to spike at any time, you need to tell me. We will ground you and I'll take you home straight afterward."

"Keith, I'll be fine–"

"Shiro, no. Your anxiety is serious."

"I– okay," Shiro sighs but a soft smile is on his face.

"I'll go and tell Lotor that we're staying so he doesn't wonder why we're still here. And I'll have him pick us up some food. It'll be a while but it's dinner. What are you in the mood for?" Keith hums.

"I'm really wanting some chow mein with some orange chicken.." Shiro mumbles. "I'll pay you back for the food."

"It's my treat. What do you want for the drink?"

"Water with three limes," Shiro pulls out his bottom lip. "If that's okay."

"Shiro, you could want half the menu and I'd still pay for it. It's okay," Keith chuckles. "Guess I should get up then, mmn?"

"Uhh.. but you're warm," Shiro mumbles.

"I'll be quick," Keith is moving and Shiro feels warm lips against his own. He hums into the touch. "Promise," Keith whispers against Shiro's lips. Shiro can't help the soft groan at the conscious but faint throbbing he feels below the hips.

"Hurry back," Shiro whispers. Keith plants another kiss on Shiro's lips before sitting up and shuffling himself out of the bed.

"Do you want the lights on, to look around?" Keith calls.

"Mmnh-hmmn," Shiro slowly flips onto his back, able to watch Keith's outline open the creaking door and flick the light on. Then he's out, and Shiro hears the soft pattering of his houseshoes on the wood. Shiro sighs contently and looks around. The room is decently sized but just big enough for the king that Shiro lays on, a dark oak dresser beside the bed, and a fainter color of wooden dresser opposite of it. A small rectangle window sits right under the ceiling, in the middle of the wall, behind the lighter wooden dresser. A laundry basket sits in the corner across from the bed. It's cozy.

Shiro rests his skin and blood hand on his chest as he goes to look up at the ceiling. A breeze of emotions curl in his throat when he comes to see his reflection, staring right back at him. It's a mirror, nearly the size of the king-sized bed, pinned up onto the ceiling. A feeling of thrill rushes through Shiro as he continues to stare at himself. He can't help but let his thoughts to wander, helpless as his brain runs over a very _specific_ scenario of Keith towering over him, arms on either side of his head as he kisses and sucks along the vein in his neck.

_Keith's purple shirt ruffling up and rising by Shiro running his hand up Keith's freckled back to just scratch his blunt nails down his skin. Keith panting and breathing so heavily against his ear as he rocks their hips together…_

Shiro moans when his name is called, from outside the room. His name comes again, a pitch higher.

_Keith running his tongue down Shiro's chest and stomach, metal ball curling at his tongue's movement.._

"Shiro?" Keith calls again. Shiro finally blinks his eyes open and stares at his flushed reflection in the mirror. He swallows and clears his throat, bringing his hand up to rub his face.

"Oh goodness," he breathes out.

"Had a good daydream?" comes Keith's voice.

Shiro jumps and struggles to sit up, feels his face burn hotter when Keith's amused chuckle echoes in the room.

"What were you thinking about?"

Shiro looks up and locks eyes with Keith. He's leaning against the frame of the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. The glint in those pretty eyes make him swallow. "You," he finishes lamely.

Keith gives a rumble of a hum. "Mmmn. And what was I doing?"

"You were kissing my neck," Shiro starts and slowly rolls up from the bed. Keith watches him as he jabs his hips into the side of the doorway. Shiro watches the action with heat in his eyes.

"What else?"

"Grinding our hips together," he continues and takes a slow step towards Keith who's watching him the entire time. "Real slowly, against me," takes another step, "and you pant into my ear," another step. They're standing in front of each other when Shiro takes a final step. Keith slowly stands up straight from the doorway and lets his arms fall to his sides.

Keith rakes his eyes over Shiro's build before landing on his face. Shiro settles his large palm on Keith's firm hipbone and digs his thumb into his skin. Keith makes do by resting his right arm against Shiro, gloved hand cupping his neck. "Anything else I do?" Keith speaks softly.

"You kiss and lick me all the way down to my cock," Shiro hums. "That metal tongue piercing really does the trick to get me going."

"You like dirty talk," Keith says as more of an observation. "I like it," he lolls his head and slims his eyes at Shiro.

"Just like a Kitten," Shiro cooes.

"Mmn," he's rocking on his toes and his lips are feathery against Shiro's. "And I'm gonna catch your tongue," it's light. A promise.

Shiro _wants._

It's a quick action of Keith running his hands down Shiro's chest until his fingers tickle the hem of his sweatpants. His erection straining against the annoying fabric.

"How much time do we have?" Shiro asks.

"Half an hour to do whatever you want, baby," Keith pants.

"God, that's not enough time," Shiro grunts. Keith gives a small moan in response. "There's so much I want to do to your body," he breathes.

"Naughty," Keith teases. "What are you wanting to do to me right now?"

"Choke you on my cock," he replies almost immediately. Keith groans deeply in his throat and rocks his head back before opening his mouth and letting his tongue hang out. Shiro was instantly gazing down at the metal ball that clouded around its surface from Keith's breath.

So when Shiro is sitting back on the bed with Keith in between his legs and gagging on his cock but bobbing his head and swallowing against him, he couldn't help but let the filthiest grunts and moans shake from his lips. Keith's hair had been undone and it was already becoming tangled from Shiro consistently combing his digits through it. Shiro had tugged and pulled, scratched and grabbed, but Keith never once slowed his movements. He let his throat convulse one final time, and Shiro felt the bump of the metal ball before the sweet whispered words of, "fuckbabyI'mgonnacu _mfuckfuckfuck_ ," and then Shiro is spilling into his throat and biting into his bottom lip so hard it starts to bleed. His hand had left Keith's hair and went to support him on his side, hand clenching and twisting the comfort sheets so hard his knuckles were white.

Shiro sees stars spill over his eyes and he's gasping and moaning and panting so hard that his chest flutters and blood bangs against his skull. Keith's mouth is still around him and his thighs are trembling when Keith is still suckling at him, milking him for all he's worth. When Shiro is done and he's become sensitive, his thighs tense and gently squeeze on either side of Keith. The man sits back on his knees and drops Shiro from his mouth with a filthy _pop!_ Shiro whimpers at the noise.

And though Keith looks wrecked, he seems rather smug about himself. "Made you speechless? Again?" he asks. His voice is already rough and scratchy.

Shiro breathes heavily from his nose as he weakly glares down at Keith. He doesn't have it in him to make a snarky reply. Keith hums and tucks Shiro back inside of his boxers.

"Anything else you want to do to me? We have about fifteen minutes left."

"Give… give me a moment to recollect," Shiro whispers.

"Take your time, pup. Do you need some water?"

"With ice, please," Shiro flops back onto the bed. He hears the soft pop of Keith's knees when he stands and the wood creaks under his feet as he walks out of the room. Shiro glances up at his reflection and takes in his own appearance. Face flushed dark, tips of his black hair is sweaty and matting to his forehead. Chest rising up and down in a quick manner. As much as he had wrecked Keith, Keith wrecked him just the same.

Keith comes back with a glass of water, ice clinking against its barrier. "Here you go," he muses softly, taking a seat beside Shiro who slowly sits back up.

"Thank you," Shiro sighs and takes the glass, bringing it to his lips to take a few slow sips. Keith nods beside him. Shiro finishes his glass one-third of the way and rests his arm against his leg.

"You know we don't have to do anything else if you don't want to. You can just rest 'til our food gets here," Keith offers.

Shiro eyebrows furrow and he glances over at Keith who leans back on his elbow for support.

"What?" Keith questions.

"You don't want to do anything else?"

"Oh, believe me, I do. But I'm fairly sure that I have more stamina than you do. Not just that, you look kind of out of it," Keith snorts.

"You have more stamina than me?" Shiro rises a brow.

"Shiro, I could hold you against the wall and fuck you senseless and still have the energy to go another round or two."

Shiro stares at Keith and blinks. "Could you, now?"

"I can, in fact. Bend you over every piece of furniture and counter in this cabin and make you cum so hard," Keith purrs and drops his head back, purple wine colored hair hanging from his head. "Wouldn't let you touch yourself at all. In every room," he continues.

Shiro tingles all over and swallows his saliva. "I–" his voice wavers. Keith's eyes twinkle at him.

"Sound like a good promise?"

"Mmn," Shiro keens instead of replying with words.

"But for now, at least until Lotor has left, we won't do anything," And Shiro whines. He feels the bed dip and Keith's fingers press into his thighs. "We could… play around, until Lotor gets here," he offers, feigning innocence in his tone.

"Yes," Shiro hisses at the touch.

"But I control what we do. Sound good?" And Shiro nods his head. "Good. Take off your hoodie and lay back on the bed."

Shiro makes do with setting the glass of water down on the floor and hooks his arm behind his head to tug off the item of clothing and toss it aside before pulling his knees up and settling back against the cool bedsheets. His white tank top is ruffled at the bottom, showing off the dip of his stomach from the hoodie being pulled but Keith makes no comment and Shiro makes no move to fix it. But what Shiro does notice is that his shoulder blades and down, Keith can see. His amputated stub.

"Is it okay?" Shiro whispers.

"Baby, you're perfect the way you are. You don't need to have anything more than what you have already," Keith responds to his question almost immediately. "Never work for someone's standards," he shakes his head. "Am I allowed to touch it?" he asks.

"Yes. About an inch right before, um-" Shiro clears his throat. "It's all dead nerves. It might be cold to the touch as well."

"I'll be careful. Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" Keith keeps a soft tone. Shiro nods and watches as Keith crawls over him until they're face to face. He bends at his elbows and hovers his lips over Shiro's. Waits until the man whines and arches his back to slick their lips together.

Warm. Soft. Collected. _Keith._

Shiro moans against him when the kiss deepens and Shiro feels heat pool in his stomach. "Keith," he mumbles out.

"Shiro," Keith seems to echo him.

"Please," he tilts his head back and exposes his neck. Keith seems to listen because he's parting his lips and softly curling them against Shiro's skin who's breath staggers at the touch. Keith tilts his head as he continues his slow assault, pretty lips leaving invisible trails all over Shiro. He swallows in nervousness and shivers when Keith licks a stripe right along his Adams' apple.

"Fuck, Shiro. You're so hot," Keith whispers on his skin. Lips trail to his right shoulder. "You're so good for me," he continues, kissing at his shoulder bone. "So good," kisses mark down his stub.

"I– Keith," Shiro falters. Keith stops his kisses. "Keep going. Please," he murmurs. With a nod of confirmation, Keith slowly returns his pecks. As he gets closer to the edge, Shiro shudders in a breath. "Can't feel that one," he croaks out. Keith continues, kissing the bend of his arm. "Can't feel that one," he repeats. The kisses come back up and Shiro's chest shakes when the warmth of Keith's lips spread through his skin once more. "I can feel that."

"That's good, Shiro. I'm so proud of you," Keith kisses up to his shoulder bone, to the dip in his neck and suckles a spot there. Shiro gives a shaky moan. "Sensitive here too?"

"Mmmh," Shiro's whine is his answer.

"I'm not gonna make you come, okay? Just hold you in my hand," Keith shifts on his left side and trails his right hand down Shiro's solid chest down to his stomach. Then he's curving his fingers on Shiro's clothed cock.

Shiro grunts, even though he was well spent, his cock bulged and twitched in interest. "Kiss," is all he gets out before Keith's lips catch his own. His fingers bend and then they're snuggling under the fabric of Shiro's boxers. Shiro moans, his left arm coming up to grasp at Keith and keep him close. Breathes through his nose as Keith's slim fingers slowly curl around his cock. "Mmh," he whimpers, his hold on Keith tightening.

"Mmmmh," Keith moans back. Shiro can't help the movement of his hips, when he weakly thrusts his hips up, feeling himself slide in Keith's hand. Keith smiles against him, chuckles lowly before pulling back. "Nuh huh, you stay still. Don't thrust up into my hand. Not until I tell you."

Shiro just nods his head, he'll agree to whatever Keith wants him to as long as he gets to kiss his lips. "Kiss," Shiro begs.

Keith is back on him, kissing at him with a different tone. Now he suckles Shiro's bottom lip into his mouth. Pulls back with a _pop!_ Shiro twitches in Keith's fingers. Keith shifts his movement, instead licking his bottom lip for access. Shiro happily opens his mouth to Keith but once again, he's rendered surprised when Keith's tongue carves into his mouth. He feels the metal ball cooly press against him and his hips weakly thrust. Keith allows it because he's shifting his movement again.

God, it must've been minutes that Keith attacks Shiro's mouth before moving onto his neck and throat. Shiro's aching, dripping pre, he knows it. He throbs consistently now in Keith's hand. It's when he's reaching for Keith's mouth again that he hears a squeaking of a door opening.

"Brother. Your food," comes Lotor's voice.

Shiro looks at Keith in panic and when those pretty eyes glance down, Shiro catches on. Keith wanted this to happen. "Naked, hold on," Keith calls and shrugs his shoulders. Looks down at Shiro who's gaping at him and suddenly leans down to whisper hotly in his ear. "Thrust up into my hand, baby. Be quiet, Lotor could hear you," before sitting back up. Shiro feels his jaw slack and he's finally able to feel relief. One thrust, the bed creaks at the movement. Shiro stills while Keith grins.

"Ah. Well, I got Shirogane his chow mein and orange chicken. Water with four lemons, you said?" Lotor's voice echoes.

"You mean three?" Keith snorts.

The fucker. He was having a normal conversation as if he didn't have his hand around Shiro's cock right now.

"Three, four. Not much difference," Lotor speaks.

"They're an even and an odd number. That's a difference," Keith glances down at Shiro and licks his lips. Instead, he tightens his fingers and slowly pumps Shiro's cock.

Shiro's eyes squeeze shut and his hand has to fall so he can bite down on the meat of his hand. Keith's fingers tighten around that one spot on his cock and Shiro's eyes roll in the back of his head.

"Very funny, brother. You had the two bowls of chow mein and Root Beer, right?" Lotor asks.

"Yeah. I also got the chicken eggrolls. And another drink."

"Ah," there's ruffling of plastic. Keith takes advantage of it because he leans back down into Shiro's ear.

Whispers, "you're throbbing in my hand, baby. You're so thick."

Shiro forces himself to keep his mouth in his hand, especially when Keith's fingers circles his slit and makes his head spin. 

"Hold on," Keith calls, sending a smirk down at Shiro who bulges his eyes at him. Keith loosens his fingers around Shiro and slowly pulls his hand back, brings it to his lips and quietly sucks on his fingers. Shiro's breathing quickens even further as he watches. Then Keith is shifting from the bed, manages to get off of it without having it creak and closes the cabinet of the drawer in front of him. Sends a smirk towards Shiro, presses his finger against his lips before leaving the room.

Keith and Lotor are regulars at talking up a storm, but Shiro can't be bothered to listen in because he's kicking himself in how he doesn't have a metal arm to jerk himself off into incoherentness. So he waits until there's the creaking of wound sounding away, then the hiss of the front door. A beat, two, then three.

"Did you touch yourself?" Keith's voice calls. Shiro can't answer him. Keith is the only one who pokes his head into the bedroom. "No? I'm proud of you. C'mon, dinner's here first," Keith grins at him.

Shiro slowly removes his hand and shifts himself out of bed. It's hard walking with his cock throbbing so much against him. "You fucker," he hisses.

"I promise to make it worthwhile," Keith cooes.

And he did. For the next four days, Keith kept his promise. Right after dinner, Keith caught Shiro off guard and made him come so hard he blacked out. Saturday morning rolled by, and Shiro decided to show his appreciation by making Keith breakfast. Though he didn't get fairly far in cooking, because Keith was up no later ten minutes and came up behind him, kissing at his back while dipping his hand into his sweats. The two had breakfast at 12, rather than at 9, like Shiro wanted. When they showered, which Shiro found there was a whole other room, hidden in the hallway to the left, Keith did as he spoke of the day prior. He lifted Shiro up by his thighs and held him against the wall as they rubbed off against each other.

Keith kept Shiro on his toes the rest of Saturday. When Sunday breezed in, it was Shiro who had pounced onto Keith, demanding that they do something or he was going to go crazy. He was teased, "deprived of me already, baby?" before Keith kept his word, bent him over every piece of furniture and counter, and got him off from pure stimulation and words alone. That carried into Monday. Shiro was so fucking sore from Keith biting and scratching at his skin, sucking hickies into his neck, though he did his fair share. That didn't stop him from whining until Keith came to check up on him, that he even spread his legs, begging for release.

Tuesday was the kicker. Shiro had wakened Keith up to kissing at his face before settling down and asking a question. It had made Keith pause in his tracks because it was unexpected. Shiro asked for the truth, so Keith gave him the truth. He also found out it was Tuesday, but something in him didn't make him have the heart to care, so he brushed it off. Wednesday though, Keith woke Shiro up and slowly gotten him ready. Keith made breakfast while Shiro showered and brushed his teeth, pulling a pair of Keith's clothes on when he was done. The two ate in peace, and then Keith dropped Shiro off at the campus, giving him a kiss on the lips before they parted.

And Shiro will mark that long weekend break as the best weekend he's ever had. He came back onto campus with the knowledge of two things.

One, they have a new line. And two, damn that man has some stamina.

It's all he's thinking about as he walks into his first class of the day when he takes his seat. He hardly pays attention because _Keith._

After the bell rings for the class session to end, Shiro scoops his belongings into his chest and heads for the classroom door immediately. He doesn't pay attention to his Professor, Allura, trying to talk over the rush of voices about their due homework for next week. All he knows is that he wants to go home and talk on the phone with Keith.

But it's lunchtime. He has another class to go and then he's home free to what he pleases.

Pidge and Hunk are waiting for him once he's out from the concrete flooring of outside and stepping into the field of grass. Shiro barely notices they're standing there until his name is called.

"Shiro! Where were you the past four days man? You left your phone and your prosthetic on your bed," Hunk calls immediately.

Shiro glances down to his right, where his long-sleeved shirt is tied in a knot right below his stub. "Ah, sorry. Was hanging out with someone and I lost track of the days," he excuses. He knows it's a shit excuse, but he's not lying.

Pidge tilts her chin up at him and crosses her arms over her chest. "Oh yeah? That's the second time you've done that in the past month. You never go anywhere without your prosthetic," her tone is sharp and biting. Shiro feels himself sighing, half out of annoyance, half out of tiredness.

Before he can even answer Pidge, Lance's voice cuts him off. "Change of plans for lunch! There's a new restaurant down the street, it's in walking distance. And since it's their first day, all orders are free!"

Hunk looks over. "Ah, a soft opening? I'm down. What about you guys?"

"What the hell is a soft opening?" There comes Matt as he walks up and stands beside Shiro.

Pidge doesn't drop her look on Shiro but she nods, giving Matt a small wave.

"Sure," Shiro offers a gentle smile towards Hunk who beams.

"Let's go!" Lance cheers and the five head off.

"No, seriously. What's a soft opening? Like ice cream?" Matt asks.

"A soft opening is when a food business opens their doors and allows their first customers free pay of food. It's just to make sure that the staff and supplies are working and prepared. And it helps to get good feedback and immediate customers," Hunk answers, patting his belly.

"Huh. Is it a fast food joint or something?"

"It's a mixture of cafe feeling and fast dining. Like, those types where you get seated a table and crap," Lance waves his hand behind him. "It's a beautiful place, too. And I looked at their menus, they're actually not that expensive. Eight dollars for a three-topping pizza."

"I don't believe you," Hunk calls. "No pizza can be that good if it's under ten dollars."

Lance shrugs his shoulders. "Then we'll have to see for ourselves."

The entire time they walked, Shiro never spoke to the group. Pidge never commented on it, but Shiro knew she was eyeing him. Lance is the one who's pushing open the doors of the restaurant, that was called Paradise Dream. Shiro was hit was a blast of grounded coffee beans, but yet he breathed in the warm smell and sighed softly. It was quite empty, except for two tables being occupied. And it was gorgeous, the roof of the building was tall and came to a point, though more to the left. Walls decorated and built by wood. J-curved golden lamp hung every three feet, one every two tables. Long glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Fairly large in itself, there were rows and rows of wall decked tables that streamed in front of them, the one corner table looking three times the size as the normal table. To their right, a small but cozy half cafe. Tall, about three and a half feet, wooden tables with the natural adult chair. Two chairs per table. All sets were spread out in the space, minding the five that took coverage of the half front window screening.

Behind, to the left of the cafe chairs, and the right of the rows of wall tables was a spacious countertop. All wood, clearly carved from an oak tree. Behind the counter were a handful of staff, one wiping the counter while the others were going back and forth into the kitchen and further back to where they couldn't be seen. It was– wow. It looked like a fancy cavern hotel.

"Hello there, my name is Danny and I'll be your waiter today. Which table would y'all like for today," a man's voice echoed from the walls. He was tall and lanky, yet built from under his clothes. Dark purple shirt, black pants. Had a large mop of coconut curly hair that fell just below his shoulders. His left eyebrow had a small, faded scar through it. Dark brown eyes, gentle smile.

"That far table in the very back," Lance answered happily.

Danny had given a polite smile and nodded. "All five?"

"Yes."

"Right this way," then Danny is picking up a few slim menus and walking off and the group following behind him, all looking in various directions of the building before they're seated in the corner table. From left to right, is Shiro, Matt, Lance, Pidge, Hunk. They settle their belongings. Danny hands out the set of menus and takes a huff, bouncing on his feet as he grew his smile back. "Alright, what can I get started for your drinks?"

"Do you have Cherry Cola?" Hunk asks.

"We do."

"Great! I'll take one of those, extra ice, please," the man bubbles happily and skims over his menu.

"I'll take a Sprite," Matt speaks.

"I'll take what he's got, too," Lance follows.

"Water with three limes, please," Shiro keeps his head down towards his own menu.

"What for you, ma'am?" Danny asks towards Pidge.

"Sprite," Pidge answers after a beat of silence.

"Alright. I'll be back in a few seconds with your drinks," then Danny walks off.

"Shiro, you–" Pidge starts.

"—So are we getting the three topping pizza, Hunk?" Lance interrupts her. Shiro doesn't bother trying to regard Pidge's question.

Hunk is still glossing his over. "I admit, their pricing is fair. I mean… all of their burgers are just below five dollars, and in their pictures, they look huge! Normal appetizers, four dollars.. wow," he breathes in amazement. "Can we ask for a sample of what the pizza tastes like before we order it?"

"I think so. He's coming back now," Lance answers. Danny is walking back to their table with six glasses in his hand. He gives Hunk his Cherry Cola and sets an extra cup filled with crushed cubed ice, Lance and Matt their Sprites, Shiro his water, and Pidge with her own Sprite.

"Are we still looking over our menus or have we figured out what we want?" Danny asks, patting his hands over his sides.

"Are we able to get a sample of your pizza before we try ordering?"

"Of course. I'll make… five pieces?" he asks, checking over everyone who nods. "I'll be back then," Danny beams and walks off.

"I might just get the chicken tender basket with salted fries. That sounds really good," Shiro muses over to Matt who leans over to look at Shiro's menu.

"Ooh, that sounds good actually. What about the fried onion ring hamburger, though?" Matt mumbles back, pointing to a photo. "Barbeque sauce, secret sauce, fried onion rings, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes.. I'm getting that. Hell yeah," he looks back on his own menu. "Sides, sides.. fries, mashed potatoes, small salad of choice, coleslaw, baked potato… Oh, I'm loving this place."

"Pizza for us three then," Lance perks up. Hunk smiles in agreement while Pidge silently fumes when Shiro regards her brother. The two are mumbling, trading options to each other, wondering which foods to choose. All the while, the doors open behind them and more students from campus are rolling inside.

The workers, which sound louder than just six or seven people speak everytime someone walks in. "Welcome to Paradise Dream! Someone will greet and seat you soon!"

Danny comes back humming a gentle tune, five plastic toothpicks poked into a small candies bite-sized slice of pizza. Cheese is hotly melting and even strings down from the corners. Every piece has one slice of roasted pepperoni. "Careful, they're fresh from the oven," Danny handles everyone their toothpicks and waits as they all blow on their share and munch down. He grins in response to everyone making a pleased sound from their bites.

"That was quick," Lance comments when he finished his bite. "And this is fantastic."

"That's really good," Hunk covers his mouth with the back of his hand, finishes before swallowing. "I'm getting that," he comments.

"Hell yeah!" Lance cheers.

Pidge nods, but she does look pleased.

"We'll take the three topping pizza. I want pepperoni," Lance calls.

"Sausage," Hunk chirps in.

"Cheese," Pidge answers.

"Twelve slices?" Danny asks. Lance nods happily. "And what about you two?" Danny looks over at Shiro and Matt.

"As much as that pizza was delicious… I want the fried onion ring hamburger," Matt sets his toothpick down.

"And for the side?"

"Your salted fries."

"And you, sir?" Danny looks at Shiro who flushes under the attention.

"I want the chicken tender basket with the fries for the side, please," he shyly smiles. Danny nods, and the five hand him back their menus before he's walking off. The restaurant is filling up more now, more and more students are rolling in and being seated. There's the normal low rumble of chatter.

"I'm glad we got here when we did then," Lance glances over at the line.

"Shiro, where were you the past four days?" Pidge asks, sending the man a glare.

"I already said that I was hanging out with someone and I just lost the track of days," Shiro sighs and rubs his forehead. He can feel a headache coming on.

"Why don't I believe you right now? You've never done that. And since when do you leave your prosthetic? And your phone? Without calling one of us to let us know you're just going to disappear for a few days? And _who_ were you with?"

"Katie!" Matt hisses at her. "Take a breath or something, calm down. He doesn't have to tell us every little thing he's doing," he defends Shiro.

Pidge glares at Matt before looking back at Shiro who doesn't bother answering her or fazes through her stare.

"Pidge, leave the guy alone. His private business is his business," Lance chimes in.

"Hunk?" Pidge glances over at the man beside her. "Tell me you agree with me."

"I mean, I was worried for Monday and Tuesday, but for the weekends, he doesn't have to be in the apartment the entire time. I'm glad you're getting out again, man," Hunk offers.

Pidge groans in frustration beside him and hisses, "whatever," before tugging her phone from her backpack and occupying herself on her screen.

"Okay then. Hunk, how's Culinary?" Lance comes for conversation.

"Actually really good. We're still learning our kitchens but next session we're cooking delived eggs," Hunk clasps his hands together happily. "What about you in Theatre?"

"I got the main part in the next play we're doing."

Shiro and Matt chatter amongst themselves quietly all the while Lance and Hunk talk. Shiro can still feel Pidge glaring at his head, but he does his best to ignore it. It's a good ten minutes before Danny is walking towards their table, hand carrying a silver platter of their food. "Pizza with cheese, sausage, pepperoni. Twelve slices," he calls and stands in front of their table, slides the catering of the pizza and sets it in front of Pidge for the three to have an equal grab.

"Holy shit, this thing's huge!" Lance whisper yells.

"Chicken tender basket with fries," Danny continues and settles Shiro baskets in front of him who hums in appreciation. "And your fried onion ring hamburger," he sets Matt's platter of food down in front of him.

"Thank you," Matt and Shiro speak. Danny gives a smile.

"Yehh, feriously, fhanks," comes Lance, mouth stuffed of food. Hunk nods, too embarrassed to speak with his mouth full. Danny laughs lightly.

"Do any of you need condiments? We've got ranch, ketchup, mustard, all that good stuff," Danny offers.

Lance raises his hand, pointing his index finger to the sky.

"Ranch?" Danny asks and receives a nod. Shiro raises a hand for ketchup, Matt raises for ranch as well. "Gotcha, I'll be right back," he walks off.

Matt is in his own world as he's chowing down on his burger, and Shiro can't help the laugh bubbling in his throat watching him. "You got sauce on your face," Shiro muses, finishing his bite of chicken.

"Mmph?" Matt looks over at him with his mouth stuffed. He looks ridiculous. Shiro snorts and shakes his head.

Lance is on his second slice, Pidge hasn't bothered touching hers, and Hunk is still savoring his first slice. When Lance finishes his swallow, he chugs a good amount of his Sprite and settles back. "Did you hear? Two bodies were found at the Kogane's house, the night of the party. Cops came and everything."

It gets a range of reactions. Matt glares over at Lance in annoyance and mumbles, "seriously, what the _fuck,_ I'm eating," and Hunk had set his slice down to hold his head. Pidge only twitched her head up to look at Lance before over at Shiro who went quiet and cleared his throat.

"That was like three weeks ago, wasn't it?" Matt includes himself in the conversation when he's finished his bite. Lance nods. "So why is it still being talked about?"

"Because everyone thinks Kogane did it," Lance hisses.

"You do know there are two Kogane's. So which one are you talking about?" Matt sighs heavily.

" _Keith_ , obviously! Have you seen him? The guy obsesses over knives and he's just… odd," Lance grumbles.

"I need some air," Shiro tosses his chicken in the basket and stands from where he sat, speed walking his way out of the building. The table watches in surprise.

"Did I say something wrong?" Lance asks.

Shiro gently pushes past the line of people and takes a few feet away from the restaurant. He's running his hand through his hair and staring shakily at the ground. Before reaching in his back pocket to dig out his phone. He slims his eyes at the dim screen and taps in his password before pushing the brightness up just a touch. Then he's dialing Keith's number and pressing it against his ear.

Keith answers on the second ring. "Hey Pup," comes his smooth voice. "Are you out of class yet?"

As much as Shiro feels his nerves immediately relaxing, he takes a breath and breathes through his nose, closing his eyes. "Why did you lie to me?"

"What?"

"With Lotor. I asked you why Lotor was mad the day after the party and you told me he burned his hand. And you played it cool. And– and now I just found out by Lance that there were two dead bodies found in your house. And the cops came. That's why I was the only one there, wasn't it? And me asking that question was rude and, and stupid—" Shiro's beginning to babble but he can't help it because he didn't know and he feels so terrible. "I just– why did you lie to me?" he whispers.

Keith is quiet on the other line. Shiro has to glance at his phone when it sparks up that Keith didn't hang up on him then presses it back against his ear.

"Keith?"

"I didn't mean to lie to you," Keith murmurs. "I really didn't."

"Why did you lie to me, Keith?" Shiro presses.

There's a soft breath of weak laughter. "Everyone else already thinks I've murdered those people and the ones before them. I didn't want you to turn away from me, too," he whispers out.

Shiro feels cold guilt creep up on him. "I'm– I'm sorry, Keith. I know you didn't do it or had anything related to it," he lets out a heavy breath. "I've just been in a rough mood since I've been on campus and I don't know why. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

"No, you were right. I lied to you, even though I told you I wouldn't," Keith reassures him.

"Yeah, that was three weeks ago when I barely knew you verses it being a few days ago," Shiro says softly.

"That doesn't make it right. I was scared that you would think I did something, just like everyone else. It's been lonely the past two years," Keith sighs.

"That's how long this has been going on?" Shiro asks.

"Yeah," Keith mumbles. "Some snotty asshole was scared of me 'cause I punched his lights out when they were already picking on my brother. So he stirred shitty rumors and started calling me a killer. Didn't help that I had pulled my knife on him, too," he goes on.

"Your knife? Was it that serious?" Shiro whispers.

"Well, he was with three other guys. I only had my pocket knife for defense."

"Did he press charges? Or you did?"

"No. At that point, I had just dropped out from attending my classes, so they thought I ran away. It wasn't until a month I had come back and everyone was pointing and staring."

"Keith, I'm so sorry.. You didn't deserve that. You still don't," Shiro feels himself tense back, trying to not let himself build over, so he sniffles instead.

"Shiro? Are you okay?" Keith asks immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just don't understand how someone could do that and think it's okay. I mean, the things it's already done to you.. that's bad, Keith. And it's terrible," Shiro sniffles again.

"Pup, I'm doing just fine. I haven't been arrested for anything related to the rumors. The Federals came to the school and got the proof that it was just a nasty word going around, so nothing happened. I promise you, nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he whispers and nods against the phone. "I miss you," he sighs.

"I miss you too. It's getting boring around the house, without you," Keith has a smile in his voice and it helps in getting Shiro to smile and blink away the prickled tears.

"Can we see each other soon, again? I'll actually use my car this time so you're not wasting gas on me," Shiro offers.

"Nah. I like having the pleasure of picking you up and driving you around. And I don't mind it at all."

"Yeah, but the Jeep is known for sucking gas money out of you."

"It's nothing if I can have you around. Now stop worrying—"

"—Yo, Shiro! You've been outside for a while, man! You doing okay?" Lance calls out. Shiro glances back and huffs.

"Yes, Lance, I'm okay. Just talking–"

"–To your lover boy, aren't ya?" Lance teases. "Pidge told me about your little crush. Lemme talk to them," he holds his hand out expectantly.

Shiro hears Keith give a wearily amused chuckle on the line. "No privacy with you," he murmurs. Shiro just gives a nod towards the sky in agreement.

"Thank you–" Lance uprights snatches Shiro's phone from his hands and presses the phone against his ear. "Hellooo? Loverboy, you there?"

"Lance," Shiro sighs aloud. "Give me my phone back."

"Shh," Lance hushes him and pulls the phone back, but the screen is too dim for him to see the name so he huffs and presses it back against his ear. It's quiet on the other line, at least from what Shiro can tell. But then there's a noise, one that Shiro can't place and Lance is nearly jumping out of his skin and is close to being considered to throw Shiro's phone back at him. "I'm just gonna go inside… and do eating.. things. You two take your time!" Lance hollers before he's running back towards the restaurant.

Shiro just cocks an eyebrow and presses his phone against his ear–

Just in time to get an earful of Keith moaning deeply into the receiver, moaning his name.

"Keith!" Shiro squeaks, the tips of his ears flushing red. "Oh my gods, Lance left. You can stop now," he wishes he had his metal prosthetic to cover his face.

"Mmmmn, are you sure he left? I can go again a few more times," Keith offers smugly.

"He went back inside," Shiro rushes out.

"Ooh, have you ever had phone sex before, Shiro?" Keith cooes. His voice is low and deep and Shiro is shivering under the harsh rays of the sun.

"No," he answers, honest. "But we are not doing this right now. I can't pop one outside. And I can't go back inside still hard, and I'm not about to come in my pants. It'll leave too much of a mess," Shiro whisper yells.

"You're no fun," Shiro can hear the pout in Keith's tone. "We'll always have later, though," Keith hums.

"Keith, I let you jack me off until I couldn't feel my legs," Shiro mumbles. "At least let me have the privacy in order to do anything."

Keith gives out a low chuckle. Shiro can imagine the smile on his stupid, pretty face. "Of course, baby. Anything for you. Now go inside and enjoy your time with your friends and I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Shiro sighs out. Pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. "I care for you," he whispers.

"I care for you," Keith echoes him. Shiro takes a second and then hangs up, slides his phone back into his pocket before making his way back inside the restaurant and taking his seat beside Matt.

"Doing okay?" Matt asks him when he sits back down.

"Yeah," Shiro takes a sip of his water.

"Your face is all red," Pidge calls out.

"Katie, leave him alone. What is up with you today?" Matt glares at her.

"It was just the heat, Pidge. It's hot as hell outside," Lance spares Shiro by not glancing him over, though he's fighting back a grin as he stuffs his face with his last slice of pizza.

Shiro shakes his head with a sigh and goes back to eating his food. The five finish their lunch within the next twenty minutes, Danny coming back every so often to check up on them. Once their done, all of their food gone, Pidge had only eaten one and a half slices so Lance and Hunk ate her two full slices and Matt ate the half.

Before they leave, Hunk makes sure to leave a generous tip for Danny before they head back to campus, belongings in their arms. Matt held Shiro's binders for him, not wanting him to struggle with one hand.

"I'm stuffed," Lance burps, patting his stomach. He walking alongside Shiro and Matt while Hunk is a few steps in front of them. Pidge had already been out of eyesight. "What's your sister's deal today?" Lance turned to Matt.

"No clue. She's probably just in a funky mood," Matt shrugs his shoulders.

"Hey Shiro, can I talk to you? You two go on, we'll catch up," Lance shoos his hand at Matt and Hunk.

"Alright, don't be too late to class!" Hunk calls as him and Matt walk off. Shiro teeters at Lance and skims his eyes.

"I don't know what you think you heard but–"

"Oh, whatever with that. Again, your private business, remember? Let's invite him over," Lance offers.

"Pardon?"

"Let's invite that lucky guy over! How long have you two been talking?"

"Almost a month. I–"

"Great! It's been long enough that he hasn't seen your friends. Let's have a sleepover tonight. Invite him over, we'll watch movies and eat popcorn until we fall asleep," Lance grins.

"Lance, hold on–"

"No more waiting, Shiro! Just bring the guy over! I wanna see who the lucky guy is," Lance winks before he's strutting off.

Shiro is sighing in frustration and rubbing his temple. "Goodness, the privacy I don't have," he grumbles out, shuffling his phone out of his back pocket again. He calls Keith, who picks up on the first ring.

"Yes, Puppy?" Keith's cool voice comes through.

"I– would you be alright if I told you-you could come over to my apartment and possibly spend the night... tonight?"

"Of course. I don't think I've seen the inside of your apartment before," Keith muses. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, Lance now knows that we've been talking for about a month and he thinks it's the best time that I invite you over so that you can meet everyone," Shiro says in a rush.

"Hold on.. Lance, the guy who took your phone from you wants to see me? Did he really not connect my voice?" Keith asks.

"I guess not but he wants to see you now," Shiro sighs.

"I mean, he'll know who I am, I'm more than sure. I can handle him, I don't think he'll get on my nerves much," Keith chuckles. Shiro is quiet for a beat. "Shiro?" Keith calls out. "Are you there?"

"It's not just Lance… It's all my friends. Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Matt. I'm sure once Lance tells them, they're going to approve of it tenfold and demand to see you," Shiro mumbles. He still hasn't moved from his spot.

Keith is quiet and he gives a grunt. "Well, the _names_ aren't something new. They do know my supposed reputation, right? And how they're going to feel when they see me with you? I just want to make sure because the last thing I want is them going off at you. I can handle myself. But I will stand up for you if they say something."

"Yes.. they know about the 'Kogane strikes again' bullcrap. Lance is basically a fan of yours because he never really stops mentioning you," Shiro sighs. "Are you sure you're okay with coming over tonight? I completely understand if you don't. I'll make up some excuse and tell them you're not coming," he offers.

"I'll be okay with it, pup. Don't worry about me. I'll let you know if I get uncomfortable or need to leave, okay?"

"Okay. Just making sure. I'll call you when I get home?"

"Sounds good. I care for you," Keith hums.

"I care for you," Shiro echoes before hanging up after a beat. He stuffs his phone back into his pocket and jogs the rest of the way to campus. Matt is waiting for him, sitting in the grass with their things in his lap. "Sorry I took so long," Shiro clears his throat.

"All good," Matt laughs and stands. "Well, I'm done with classes for the day. I'm gonna head home," he cracks his neck out. "Want me to drop you off at your place before then?" Matt asks him.

Needless to say, Shiro skipped his last class and called Keith the moment he closed his front door and set his keys on the kitchen counter. Keith answered on the first ring. Shiro pressed speaker and kicked his shoes off.

"I feel really popular today. I got woken up this morning with a kiss, had breakfast made for me, and now someone I'm fancying is calling me so many times today," Keith fake sniffles through the line. Shiro feels himself smile and shakes his head, heading to his room.

"You're cute, you know," Shiro laughs. "How was your day so far?"

"Really good. Guess what happened to me."

"What's that?"

"Oh, you know…" Keith waits for a beat, "the guy was a real sweetheart today. Just the sweetest," he hums. "Made me breakfast, showered with me, wore my clothes today.."

"Oh? I'm jealous. He sounds like the crushing romantic type," Shiro plays along, placing his phone on his bed so he can open his drawers.

"He is. He's the shy type too. Reserved, almost. And he has the most breathtaking eyes I've ever seen. They're so.. bright. And his smile? Oh," Keith rambles. Shiro feels face spark up as he grabs a pair of red basketball shorts and a thin grey shirt. Closes the cabinet.

"Is that so?" Shiro murmurs, reaching his arm back to tug the long-sleeved shirt over his head.

"Mhmm. And his body? Jesus," Keith whistles. "The man could crush my head between his thighs and I wouldn't even mind–"

"–Keith!" Shiro shrieks.

A laugh booms from his phone. "What? I'm just telling the truth! But seriously. He's so.. firm and so full of muscle. Ugh," Shiro hears Keith groan. "So fucking smooth, too."

"Keith," Shiro speaks again.

"Mmn? And I getting you riled up, Puppy?"

"You planned this, didn't you?" Shiro groans himself. Sets his phone back down on the bed and it takes him a hot minute to get out of his pants. "Where's my hand?" he speaks aloud. "What did Hunk– there it is," he spots the metal prosthetic on his bathroom counter, glinting at him from the darkness surrounding it but the sunlight peeking through from the bathroom. Shiro tiptoes into his bathroom and grabs his arm, coming back to the bed. "Hold on."

"Mmmn," Keith hums. 

"It's gonna be loud, so turn your volume down a bit," Shiro hears the line dotting a few times. Shiro takes a seat and aligns the metal opening to his armed stub. There's still the soft padding to keep his dead nerves warm, the act of feeling like there's blood pumping, though it's starting to shade colors again. It needs to be changed. He holds the arm and slowly pushes his stub inside, the rim of the metal outing scratching against his dead skin. Shiro can't feel it, of course, but it's not sending nice signals to the nerves that are working, feeling the roughness of the metal. The arm settles once half of his stub is tucked inside. It beeps a loud, long beep. Three, four, five times before Shiro tries to flex the metal fingers. The reaction speed is a tad slower, but it's back on and working.

And so when Shiro is gripping his phone in his skin and blood hand with his life, metal fingers curling and pounding into his abused prostate, never once touching his cock and with Keith whispering filthy promises into his ear, he's gasping and moaning in short, quick spans. "Gonna fuck you senseless, baby. You'll be remembering me and my cock every time you sit down," Keith cooes. Once, twice more and he's gone. Shiro's throat convulses as a scream rips from his throat and he continues to jab his fingers as he spills over his chest and stomach.

"Keep fucking yourself on your fingers, it's what I'm going to do to you. I'll let you come again from oversensitivity," Keith grunts out. So Shiro listens, listens to Keith in his glassy mind and continues to pound his metal fingers into himself. His cock spurts more and more as he goes on.

"Mmn, mmph, Keith, Ke _ith, fuck_ ," Shiro gasps in a breath of air, so gone and out of his mind, the only thing grounding him is Keith's voice. "Thick, you're so thick inside me, I c-can't, again– fuck!" Shiro whines. He can't even open his eyes, they're squeezed shut. "Fuck, ffffuck, I'm gonna, I-I'm–"

"There you go. Let yourself go, baby. I got you. Come for me, Shiro," Keith orders in a husky tone.

And Shiro does. He comes harder than he ever has before in his entire life. Noises can't even express what he's feeling, he's so far gone, go high on cloud nine. Mind is mush in his skull as his body trembles, his back arches in a straight line, toes curled so tight into the bedsheets as he comes all over himself again. He flops back down onto his bed, mouth agape and finally letting out broken moans and pants.

He finally releases his fingers from himself and feels himself squeeze around emptiness. "Mmn, mmn," Shiro whimpers in a high pitch.

There's a throaty growl from Keith's side and Shiro feels his body react strongly by it. Somewhere in his clouded mind, he knows that if it were biologically possible, his cock would have sprung with interest again.

"Fuck," Keith's voice echoes. "I think we both set a record," he whispers.

"Mmn," Shiro whimpers out.

"We both came to the sound of each other's voice," Keith continues before he's chuckling. Shiro whimpers one last time before he's out like a light.

 

And when he awakes, he's in his red basketball shorts and grey shirt. His mind is sluggish when he finally notices that the light that's pouring into his room is a mixture of blue and black.

"What?" Shiro groans and slowly sits up, running his skin and blood hand over his face. Keith… was talking to Keith a dream? He slowly recovers his blurry eyesight and looks over at his phone that's plugged in on his nightstand. Feels the coolness, one that he knows distinctly and looks down. His metal prosthetic is on his arm.

He hears something clang echoing from the living room and rolls his legs over the edge of his bed, slowly coming to a stand. Takes his time in walking out of his room. He's greeted with Matt coming up to him. "Hey, man. You were out cold when we came over. You looked pretty tired."

Shiro blinks over at Matt and offers a tired smile. "Yeah. Today kinda just wore me out, I guess. I had the oddest dream," he mumbled and rubbed his eyes. "Um, what are you doing here?" he asks.

Matt is raising his eyebrow at him. "Well, Lance said you had a secret boyfriend that you were hiding from us and that you had invited us over to stay the night. And invite your boyfriend over, so we could meet him."

Shiro can't help but furrow his eyebrows. "Wha–" he starts but Lance comes up and pats his back.

"Sleep well, Shiro?"

"Where's Hunk?" Shiro mumbles.

"In the kitchen. Hunk! Shiro needs you," Lance calls.

"Coming, coming," Hunk calls back and there's something else clattering before Hunk is shuffling out of the kitchen and towards them. "Yeah?"

"Talk? In private," Shiro walks back into his bedroom. Hunk follows behind and closes the door. "I, uh, I know this may seem weird and odd but I need to know. When you came home, did you clothe me and put my arm on?" he asks.

"No. You were already in your clothes and had your arm on when I had gotten home. You didn't even budge when I shook you awake. And you didn't wake when everyone came over."

"How long have they been here?"

"About an hour or two. Are you hungry? I'm making some pork cutlets. Your favorite," Hunk smiles.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Hunk. I'll be out here in a little bit," Shiro returns the smile.

"Take your time," Hunk nods and opens the bedroom door and steps out. Shiro rubs his head and goes to take a seat on his mattress.

"Dream?" he asks himself.

"Call your lover boy and tell him to come over already! I've been waiting long enough!" Lance shouts.

Shiro sighs and glances over at his phone. Grabs and unplugs it from the cord and taps his passcode in. Clicks the phone app and presses a familiar contact in his favorites on his phone. Brings it to his ear.

Rings once. Not even twice, and he answers.

"Hey Puppy," Keith hums out.

"Hey," Shiro mumbles. "Listen, uh.. I don't remember what the fuck happened earlier but.. did I happen to call you today?"

"Yeah. You called me about four times."

"I did? Okay. Anyways, um. My group of friends is here. Uh, Pidge, Lance, Hunk, and Matt. And they're curious if you could come over to visit?"

"Stay the night!" Lance yells back.

"My bad, stay the night," Shiro corrects himself and Keith chuckles.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

Keith's tone is a pitch lower when he speaks. "How I made you come so hard you passed out."

Shiro stares in front of him and blinks. "Did… you come and clean me up?" he whispers.

"I did. Didn't take me too long. You were still out when I cleaned you up and dressed you."

"You did, okay," Shiro sighs out. "Wait. How did you even get in my apartment?"

"Shiro, you only closed the door. Didn't lock it," Keith chuckles. Shiro feels his face flush pink.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad you didn't realize it, at the time at least. Would've been something to explain to your roommate, though."

"Yeah," Shiro huffs a breath and glances at his alarm clock. The red lines blare 8:38 p.m. "Do you think you can? Spend the night, I mean. Is Lotor okay with it?"

"I'm already on my way. I'll be there in about three or so minutes. And yes, he's okay with it. He's glad I'm getting out of the house," Keith muses.

"Huh," Shiro smiles. "That makes both of us. Stay on the phone with me until you get here?" he asks.

"Of course."

"Thank you," he hums. "Oh, I should take my anxiety medicine. Hold on, I can't put you on speaker. I'm sure there's ears trying to listen," he mumbles.

"So that's why your voice is oddly quiet. That or I really made you hoarse," Shiro can hear the grin in Keith's voice.

"Shut up, you ass. Now hold on," he sets his phone down. It's faint but Shiro can hear Keith's laughter through the line and feels a smile creep up on his face. He opens his top drawer and grabs his pill bottle, twists the cap and pours his dosage. Sets the pills on his tongue and reaches for his water bottle. Pours the water into his mouth and swallows. Then he closes the bottle and tosses it back into his drawer, shutting it.

When Shiro brings the phone up against his ear, Keith is humming a tune and thrumming his occupied hand against his wheel.

"Kitten?" Shiro calls. Keith responds with a throaty groan. "Are you almost here?"

"I've been parked outside, Puppy. Just waiting for you to get back on the phone with me. Do you wanna hang up now or wait until the last minute?"

"I dunno. You're the only thing kinda keeping me from throwing up from nervousness."

"Aw baby. How about this. I'll stay on the phone with you until I'm outside your door. You give me a sign that lets me know you're ready for me to knock and I will five seconds afterward."

"Sounds good," Shiro breathes through his nose. "I'm scared, Keith. What if they don't expect it and get angry? What are we gonna do? What if they start something?" he rambles.

"Hey, calm down. Deep breath for me. In," Keith speaks. Shiro closes his mouth and inhales through his nose slowly. "And out," Shiro breathes from his mouth. "Don't get worked up about this," Keith continues to talk. Shiro hears the Jeep beep twice before the jingling of keys is heard. "Nothing will happen, alright? But if stuff does, don't panic. I'll handle it, in a nice way. I promise."

"Yeah.. okay. And um, Hunk. Hunk made pork cutlet bowls in celebration of them meeting you so. I hope you like pork and rice," Shiro laughs weakly.

"It's your favorite food, isn't it?" Keith asks him. "The famous Katsudon. What's in 'em?"

"There's the rice and fried pork, of course. Uh, the usual ingredients. Onions, fried egg or two, scallions, dashi. And whatever seasoning. I don't have Sake with me, so I improvise," Shiro hums.

"I think I have Sake in our wine cellar at home. If I had known beforehand, I would've brought a bottle or two."

"You have got to stop spoiling me," Shiro smiles and nibbles on his bottom lip. "And I could live off of the one bottle making the bowls for a long time. I only need about a teaspoon, I believe."

"Never gonna happen, pup. I'll spoil you rotten," Keith hums. "I'm outside your door."

"Oh shit, that was fast."

"I only walked up the flight of stairs and to your door," Keith chuckles. "Just take your time, I'm in no rush. Though it is getting chilly out here. Late months weather."

"You do have on warm clothes right?"

"Ah. If you mean some shorts and a hoodie, then yes."

"Kitten," Shiro sighs. "I have some long pants in my closet for you to wear. We like to keep it cool in our apartment. And I don't want you to be chilly."

"I think you forget that I have a large ass window that stays open twenty-four seven. And my bed is literally right against it."

Shiro grumbles. "Well, I'm making you wear something warm."

"If I'm sleeping in your bed and you're with me, I'll be warm the entire night."

"Why is that?"

"You're a cuddly sleeper, you know," Keith teases.

"We will talk about this later. I'm on my way," Shiro shakes his head. Keith laughs and noises in confirmation. Shiro takes a beat to hang up and sets his phone down on his bed and stands. His feet are like cement blocks as he makes his way out of his room and slowly into the kitchen. Passing, he gently tapped his fingernail against the wood of his door and turns around the corner.

Keith did just like he said, waited five fleshed out seconds before knocking twice. Shiro hears Lance squeal from the hallway bathroom and rushes out, his face cream already on his face. "Does he have to show up the moment I start putting my face cream on? He couldn't live like another five minutes away?" Lance whines aloud.

"Pft. I'll open it then," Matt offers.

"Ah, no. Shiro will because he's the one who got his boyfriend over here," Hunk cuts in. Shiro falters and just looks at Hunk who notices his hesitance. "O-or not, I can open it. If you'd like," he offers. Shiro just swallows and nods. "Okay, don't worry, buddy."

Hunk dries his hands on his white apron and walks to the door. Shiro feels the anxiety prick at his neck, the seconds are such slow, intense seconds. Matt, Pidge, and Lance all rush to the door, all in hopes of seeing first.

"Oh gods," Shiro croaks quietly.

Hunk unlocks the door, grabs the knob and twists. Shiro hears his blood pound in his ears. The everlasting seconds when Hunk pulls the door open.

"Welcome— Red?" Hunk sounds surprised.

" _Red_?!" Lance screeches.

Matt and Pidge stand there, both having two different looks on their face. Matt's is more of immediate bubbling anger. Pidge is more monotone and still.

"Ahh… hey?" Keith gives a shy smile to Hunk. "Surprise?"

"Aw, I'm so happy for you two!" Hunk clasps his hands together, a beaming smile on his face. Lance is still gaping while Matt excuses himself. "Come in, come in. It's cold out," Hunk ushers Keith inside.

"Thanks," Keith chuckles gently at Hunk patting his back once the front door is locked. Lance is still staring at him. "Keep your mouth open like that, you're gonna catch flies," he slims his eyes. Keith looks down at Pidge and offers her a two fingered salute. "Katie."

"Red," Pidge sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe this. You're dating Shiro?"

Keith had already walked into the kitchen, making eye contact with Shiro who grew an immediate smile. "Mmn," is all he answers with before he drops his right hand and takes Shiro's skin and blood within his own, locking their fingers together. Brings Shiro's hand to his lips and kisses the back of his palm.

"So is that a yes or no?" Pidge scoffs at the two who were already too focused in each other's presence to even listen. She sighed softly and pushed at her glasses. "At least you're both looking happy. That's all that matters."

Once Lance is finally opening to stop gaping, he closes his mouth and stands up straight. "Oh well, let's celebrate then! Hunk, help me give out the bowls to everyone," he smiles. Hunk agrees, letting the two mold against each other in their peace.

"God, I missed you," Shiro whispers.

"I only dropped you off for about five or so hours, Puppy. You really did?" Keith whispers back.

"Yes," Shiro almost sags. "You have no idea. I just have been in a bland mood since you left."

"Aw. Well, I'll be around for a while longer," Keith smiles and rocks on his tiptoes to bring their lips together in a soft kiss. Shiro groans quietly into Keith's mouth, the small action making that faint throb return.

Someone whistles at them from behind the kitchen, making them part. "Get a room!" Pidge hollers. She seems to be in a chipper mood now.

"Heh," Keith chuckles against Shiro's lips. "If only they knew," he mumbles against him before stepping back. "C'mon. Let's sit on the couch," he offers. Shiro just smiles and lets himself be taken into the living room.

But it's short-lived when Keith bumps into Matt who grunts at the sudden action.

"Sorry–" Keith starts but pauses himself when he blinks through and sees Matt staring back at him. "Oh. Mmn," he muses.

"Problem there?" Matt barks at him.

"Who exactly do you think you're talking to?" Keith slims his eyes at Matt. "Unless you've got a problem with me, then we settle it in private. Other than that, I'm trying to enjoy myself," he tries to step around Matt who blocks his path. "Get out of my way."

"No," Matt nearly snarls at him. The room grows tense and uncomfortable. Pidge is behind Matt, tugging at his sleeve. Hunk is behind Shiro who's staring in shock. Lance is silent.

Keith takes another step towards Matt, lowers his voice. Shiro can hardly hear what he says but it's enough to make Matt back off and snatch his arm free from Pidge.

"Killer," of course, the trademark barks.

Keith looks bored. "Heard it, move on already, would you?"

"Matt," Shiro sends his own glare to his childhood friend.

"Guys. Let's not start something. We came here to celebrate Shiro's relationship," Lance starts.

"Yeah, relationship with a murder—" Matt's cut off from his remark because Keith had dropped Shiro's hand and knocked his fist underneath his jaw. Matt stumbles back, holding his chin while Keith shakes his arm loose.

"Keith!" Shiro.

"Matt!" Pidge.

"Guys!" Hunk and Lance.

"You're a rabid dog," Matt spits at Keith.

"Matt, knock it off. I'm serious," Pidge.

"Keith, baby, don't do this," Shiro.

"Holy shit!" Lance.

Keith takes a step back towards Shiro who quickly grabs at his arm, continuing to whisper at him. He grows a smile and turns on his heels, tugging his arm free and wrapping both around Shiro's neck, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. It's a slow, aggressive kiss but Shiro doesn't mind it and he responds with wrapping an arm around Keith's waist to bring him closer.

When they part, Keith turns and looks straight at Matt and offers another smile. "Movie?"

Matt huffs and wipes his lips. "Whatever, fuckface."

"Matt. I said knock it off," Pidge warns.

"I don't take offense to it, Katie," Keith sighs.

"Her name is Pidge!" Matt snaps at him. Hunk finally moves in between the two.

"Hunk, bud. I'm not going to do anything so you can calm down. I don't even want to watch the movie. I'll just lay down," Keith turns back to Shiro, lowering one of his arms to drag his thumb down Shiro's lips. "In your bed, of course," he mumbles. Shiro sighs against his thumb and kisses the digit. "Shiro, I'm sorry. I know I should've said something–"

"Can you just leave already?" Matt complains.

Shiro sighs heavily and stands up straight. "Matt, I think you need to go."

"What?! Why me?" Matt hollers.

"Because you were the one who started with Keith. He was actually apologizing to you. Your insults aren't funny and they aren't making your point across. You need to leave," Shiro says more firmly. "Now. Please."

Matt scoffs and stares at all of them. "You're serious?" Shiro never backs down. "Fine. So when you come to me screaming bloody murder, remember who told you," Matt pulls his arm free from Pidge's hold and tries to walk around Hunk who doesn't allow it. "I'm just getting my keys."

"Shiro, Keith. In the kitchen," Hunk nods his head. The two make their way into the kitchen, Hunk coming and blocking the pathway as Matt fumes and snatches his keys from the kitchen counter and slips his sandals on. Matt unlocks the door, opens it and slams it behind him.

Hunk sighs in aggravation and locks the door. It's silent for a minute.

"I'll take you home, Pidge. Since your ride is now gone. You too, Lance," Keith says from where he stands.

"You can still call me Katie, you know," Pidge sighs softly.

Lance gasps at Pidge. "How come I can't call you Katie?"

Pidge just shifts her gaze on him. "Say thank you to Red."

"Right. Thanks, Red," Lance offers.

"Call me Keith."

"Right. Well, we're gonna just lay down in my room. I don't think I'm in the mood for a movie right now," Shiro rubs his head.

"I'm sorry about my brother, Keith. I don't know what got into him," Pidge tries.

"I'll tell you when you're ready to hear it. Right now, you're not. You're all not. But I'm not apologizing for punching him. He deserved it."

"I know," Pidge sags.

"You two grab your bowls of food and get some drinks then hole up in Shiro's room. We'll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?" Hunk rests his hand on Shiro's shoulder.

"Thanks, Hunk," Shiro whispers.

"You two look like you need it. Now go on, get your food," Hunk smiles and pats his shoulder.

Shiro and Keith got their bowls, going traditional with chopsticks and two bottles of beer before heading off into Shiro's room, closing the door quietly behind them. Shiro turned on his ceiling fan, and the two sat on Shiro's bed, quietly chewing their meal in peace. They never spoke, just leaned against each other, side to side, as they ate.

When they were finished, Shiro got Keith into some warm sweatpants that sagged at his hips and into a large University shirt that drooped at his shoulders, but he was comfy nonetheless, and the two cuddled together underneath the blankets once the lights were off. Keith is rubbing circles into Shiro's side when Shiro finally speaks.

"Keith."

"Shiro."

Their rhythm.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Keith speaks again. "About Matt. I knew he was your childhood friend and all. I couldn't just tell you what was going on. And I'm sorry tonight didn't go as planned, Shiro."

"I know you didn't mean it. I don't blame you for it. I just don't understand," Shiro swallows.

"I'll tell you later, baby. When I know you're ready to hear it."

"Okay," it's a tense whisper. "Goodnight kiss?"

Shiro feels Keith shift and then warm lips are against his own. Keith tastes of shitty beer and fried pork. It's one of the softest kisses he's received. "Goodnight kiss," Keith echoes. "I care you for, Shiro."

"I care for you, Keith," Shiro echoes right back before the two fall into the night of slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suuuuuuper long chapter, had to rewrite and shift some parts, don't mind the vaugeness *wink* it'll be revealed next chapter
> 
> Also, kudos to you give you get my Danny reference. I'm proud of ya ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

_Psychopaths lie. They manipulate, make you feel guilty for the small things. They prey on others for the things they themselves do not have. They are empty, cannot feel emotions._

...

His arm is tingling into numbness the longer he lies there, watching Keith's sleeping face that's resting on top of his pillow. He's gentle looking, relaxed. Somewhere during the night, Keith must have undone his hair-tie because his wine-colored locks are greedily covering his face, refusing to let Shiro soak in his appearance. His fingerless gloves are set neatly on the dresser behind him, and his hands are sun-kissed at the first bend of his fingers and a small rectangle carding in the middle of his palms. But all the while, he still looks gorgeous.

Shiro whispers so as he pushes back strays of hair from Keith's face, taking in his pale and freckled skin. He can hear Pidge and Lance whisper yelling at each other in the living room and the faint _wha-hoo's!_ from Mario from their television. He can assume Hunk is either sleeping his room or he's preparing breakfast.

It takes so much for Shiro not to lay there longer and just watch Keith rest. But his arm is starting to throb at the consistent warmth his prosthetic is giving out, and his dead nerves even have the audacity to start stinging in his arm. He grunts as he ever so slowly curls out of bed, since every dip he caused, had made Keith's small rumbling pause. It takes him a good five minutes, making sure the rumbling purr from Keith came back before he even dared to leave his room.

Lance's grumbling with Pidge had increased to more of a room level than a mere whisper. The man can't even be bothered with it because he's going into the kitchen where Hunk is washing his hands in the sink. "Hunk–"

"Hey, buddy," Hunk hums as he turns off the faucet with his elbow and dries his hands on the kitchen rag. One turn at Shiro and the warm smiling is changing into something of worry. "Shiro? Oh. Okay, c'mon, let's go and get it fixed. Come on, I got 'ya," Hunk is placing a hand on the back of Shiro's neck and guiding him back into Shiro's room, quietly into the bathroom where Shiro sits on the closed toilet seat while Hunk rummages through the cabinets for his black case.

"Hunk," Shiro is groaning as his right leg starts to jitter, bouncing up and down on the tips of his toes.

"I know, I know. Hold on," Hunk stands as he sets the familiar sleek black locking case down on the bathroom counter. He quickly rolls the six dials to their correct combination before clicking the hinges and opens the case. He's multitasking as he's grabbing one of Shiro's bathroom towels and turns on the sink to the coldest setting, letting the towel clump and soak in the water. Before moving back into the case and grabbing a small handful of metal items, several ones that Shiro had forgotten to remember the names and uses of before he's turning the sink off. Picks the towel and rings it dry of the remaining water before he's coming to stand in front of Shiro and drape the towel around the back of his neck. Then squats and gently turns Shiro's metal prosthetic, presses the edge of a metal plate on the forearm to lift up before he's tinkering away inside the metal.

Shiro knows his hair must be matted to his forehead from sweating, considering how nice the towel feels against his neck. "I don't," he starts. "I don't get why they can't just fix the damn thing so we're not having to do this every day. I don't enjoy having you wake you up in the middle of the night because it doesn't want to work," he rambles.

Hunk gives a small sigh and tugs at something in the metal, and Shiro feels the arm give a low hiss before the tightening around his stub slowly loosens. "I know, buddy. But I've told you before, I don't mind you needing to wake me up for this. I really don't. That's why I took on the responsibility of knowing what I would be dealing with so I could help you. So don't beat yourself up over it," he whispers. "Tell me if you feel this. It'll feel like something small scraping at you," then he's curling his fingers.

Shiro sags the entire time Hunk speaks because he _knows_ this. They've been over it hundreds of times before. Hunk answers with the same gentle response. So instead, he just mumbles to himself and then indeed, he does feel the scraping and his face scrunches up at the ghost itching. "Yeah, yup, yup, yeah. I can feel it."

Hunk gives a nod, and then the itching fades. He gives another nod. "That should've helped with the tightening of the metal. How is the cushion looking? I know we changed it two weeks ago. Is it still white or like a muddy grey?"

"Muddy grey."

"I'll call the office and have them send us another package. It'll last for another month and a half," Hunk is sticking his tongue out as he gently pulls back the small tweezers and metal pick before pressing the metal plate back down into its compartment. Turns the arm over on its other side, feels around for the rim of another slide of metal before he presses and the disk lifts up and goes back to tinkering inside.

"Thank you, Hunk," Shiro sighs. "For everything," he mumbles.

Hunk just gives him a smile. "It's what friends do."

Hunk is able to finish with the tweaks in Shiro's arm in under twenty minutes and Shiro is feeling much relief. His responses are reacting on time with his signals, the tightness had eased back into comfort, and the overheating had slowly cooled. Shiro is still flexing his metal fingers out and rubbing the cold towel into his neck as Hunk is setting the tools back into the case and locking the dials and hinges back up.

"Do you think it would be best to take it off for a little bit? Until it cools down fully again?" Hunk asks.

Shiro stares down at his arm. "Yeah. Can you get the tubes for it? It should be that cooling gel thing and numbing gel," he settles his arm on the counter and uses his skin and blood fingers to feel around for the small divets of holes in the far ends of the metal elbow. He presses once, twice on the left and once, twice on the right. The arm beeps loud once, twice before it hisses and then Shiro is slowly pushing the arm away from him and pulling his stubbed arm back before it pops off. Shiro sighs and rubs his forehead.

"You doing okay?" Hunk asks him as he walks over to Shiro, goopy green gel mixed with foggy white sits in a puddle on the row of his fingers. Shiro nods, turns in the seat and offers his stub towards Hunk who gently presses his fingers against his arm and rubs the gel into his skin. It doesn't take long for the gel to make his working nerves tingle and then they're being kissed by the cooling gel that seeps down. Hunk works his thumb into his skin until the gel is seeped in well enough before going to wash his hands.

"Always hurts like hell," Shiro grumbles.

"I know, Shiro," Hunk frowns at him. "Whenever Keith wakes up, I'll make us some breakfast. What are you in the mood for?"

"Do we have any muffins?"

"We have some banana nut muffins in the fridge."

"I'll heat those up then," Shiro stands from the toilet and Hunk helps get the cold towel off from his neck once he finished drying his hands.

Hunk gives a nod and hangs the towel on the rack. "I'll warm them up for you when you're ready."

"I'll be in there in a little bit. I need to lay down for a little longer," Shiro cards his skin and blood hand through his black floof. Hunk offers him a gentle smile before heading out of Shiro's bedroom, closing the door behind him. Shiro flicks off the bathroom light as he heads back to bed and stands at the end of the bedpost, looking at Keith who's still lying there, sleeping quietly other than the gentle rumbling in his chest. He comes around and lifts the covers and tucks himself in behind Keith, cradling his left arm underneath the pillow while his stub sits on his side in the cool air.

Keith shifts and Shiro only snuggles closer, tucking his forehead on the dip of Keith's shoulder before the man in front of him settles back into Shiro. It's not long before the gentle rumbling comes back.

Shiro sighs softly, closing his eyes. "I know you're asleep so you can't hear me but God Keith, you're driving me crazy," he whispers. His stub comes to hover over Keith's arm and if Shiro tries hard enough, the ghost of his arm can curl around Keith's middle. "We haven't brought it up in almost a month but you can't tell me you don't feel the same way, at least just a little bit," he continues. Keith's rumbling still echoes. "Can you just give me something, that you want this just as much as I do?" he mumbles.

Keith doesn't reply, his rumbling continues, and Shiro feels both grateful that Keith isn't awake but glad that he is. It isn't too long before Shiro feels his eyes grow heavy, the warmth of Keith against him, and he settles in for a small nap.

 

When he awakes, he's lying on his stomach, Keith is lying beside him but his hair is pulled back and he's awake. "Goodmornin', sunshine," Keith hums.

"Goodmorning," Shiro yawns and pulls his skin and blood arm from under his pillow to rub at his face. "How'd you sleep?"

"Warm. You kept me against you the entire night," Keith gives a small smile. "How about you?"

"Pretty good. Though this morning wasn't the best," Shiro waves his stub at Keith. "Started malfunctioning again. Probably because I haven't had it on in a while," he mumbles.

"It malfunctions for not being worn?" Keith sounds surprised.

"Told you it has its tweaks," Shiro sighs. He eases himself onto his skin and blood elbow and moves to lay on his side. Keith takes the invisible invitation and comes to cuddle against Shiro's chest. Wraps his arms around Shiro's middle and keeps his face almost opposite of Shiro's.

"That sucks ass. Are you hungry?" Keith asks. Shiro's stomach grumbles for him and Keith gives a light laugh. "I'll take that as a yes. I went and bought some breakfast. I got you chocolate covered donut holes and some strawberry milk. And two of those chocolate filled croissants. Hunk told me you liked them," Keith snorts. "You have just as much as a sweet tooth like I do. It's cute."

Shiro chuckles bashfully. "So is it okay for me to say your breath smells really sweet? Like chocolate," he swallows when Keith slims his eyes in that way and a sly smirk grows on that pretty, freckled face.

"Want a taste?"

Three words should _not_ be allowed to sound that hot.

Shiro chokes on a half moan. "You really need to stop tempting me."

"What'cha gonna do about it?" Keith knows he's got Shiro wrapped around his finger. He's leaning in on his elbow, bringing his face close to Shiro's. "You gon' shut me up?"

"I don't have my other arm to do so," Shiro groans out, feeling himself twitch at the opportunity just sitting there, waiting for him.

"I'll help you out then. Here," Keith rolls himself over to lay on top of Shiro who falls back onto the bed, his skin and blood hand immediately coming to grip at Keith's hip. Keith settles his arms like pillars, caging Shiro's head while his thighs cage Shiro's own.

The two go at it, Keith greedily clinging onto Shiro while he manages to sit the two up and stand from the bed to pin Keith against the wall. Using his arm for support. They make heavy thuds, Shiro knocking his knees into the wall while Keith momentarily loses his breath from his back hitting said wall. Shiro takes advantage of it and catches Keith's mouth, dragging his tongue into his cavern and gliding his tongue against Keith's. The cool metal balls pierced under his lip clack together and mound at Shiro's own.

It brings a startling moan from the both of them, Keith because the feeling was so dirty and sinful and it made his toes curl in the best way, and Shiro because Keith tasted of chocolate coated bread, his normal crystalized apple and sugary taste, and that damn tongue piercing was cool and heavy against him.

Keith is struggling to grip at Shiro's shirt to try and tug it off and he suddenly laughs, breathless into Shiro's mouth.

"What's so funny?" Shiro pants.

"We just– we're so insane. But I like it," Keith chuckles against him and he releases Shiro's shirt to reach up and hold his face. "What's today– Wednesday? I want to see you, this Friday. There's something we need to talk about," he quiets down.

"Friday? What–"

"–Hey, Shiro, I heard a thump in here, are you oka–"

Both Keith and Shiro turn their heads to Lance who's opened the door and now standing at the doorway, staring at them both. Keith must have made a different face than Shiro who looked like a deer in headlights because Lance is quickly ushering an apology before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Keith clears his throat and Shiro turns his face back towards him. "As I was saying, yes. This Friday. It's important."

"Keith, what–" Shiro's silenced by Keith pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Just, please? Do it for me."

"Okay," Shiro sighs. It's a mix of strong emotions curling in the pit of his stomach. He's nervous more so than anything else, what do they need to talk about?

"It's nothing bad, I promise," Keith offers to calm his nerves.

"I– to help ease them more, could we possibly spend the entire day Friday together? I know it would be the opposite logically but I don't think I'll be able to handle it if I'm alone without someone to actually talk to," he mumbles.

"Of course. I'll come and get you when I wake up. And I'll take you out the whole day."

He'll be missing his classes on Friday. Most likely tomorrow, too.

_~~He already missed today.~~ _

"I care for you," Shiro whispers.

"I care for you," Keith echoes. "Now come on, go on and freshen up so you can eat some breakfast and then I can take those two knuckleheads home," Keith chuckles.

Shiro slowly sets Keith back down onto his feet. "You'll come back, right? And stay the day?"

"I can stay until two, after that I have to go and visit my uncles Kolivan and Antok. They're expecting their nephew to come over for a little while."

"How often do you visit them?"

"Twice every month," Keith goes and flicks on the bathroom light for Shiro before hopping onto the bathroom counter. Shiro picks his toothbrush, wets it under the running faucet, nicks some toothpaste, wets it again, and begins to brush his teeth. The two nod off into a comfortable silence, Shiro scrubbing his teeth while Keith hums a soft tune. When Shiro finishes, he rinses and dries his mouth, washes the bristles clean and dries his hands.

"Again, tell me if I cross a boundary, but did they raise you and Lotor since your father walked and mom died?"

"Yeah. I was too young to remember but uncle Kolivan told me that dad called and told him to come right away then walked on us that same night. And he was glad he listened because we had almost starved to death since Lotor had just turned six and I was barely thirteen months old," Keith says with a level tone but when Shiro turns his head, Keith is glaring down at the floor, face tight.

"I– I'm sorry," Shiro whispers out.

Keith gives a chuckle, but it's forced, tensed. "I don't even know how my parents look like, so it doesn't matter," he hops from the bathroom counter and walks out. Shiro follows behind him, flicking the light off.

"I won't tell you how you're supposed to feel. But I can relate to it, in some sense. I've never met my parents either, I was raised by my grandparents," Shiro gives a small shrug. "Think of it like Harry Potter. I even had the circle-rimmed glasses and thunder scar on my forehead," he teases lightly.

It cracks a smile from Keith, and Shiro is taking it as a win. "I suppose you didn't live in the room under the stairs?"

"I actually kinda did–" Shiro ponders. "So, imagine one of those typical staircases as soon as you walk in a house. And you know those doors across the hallway, almost behind them?" he asks, and Keith nods. "That was my room. Sort of small, but it had a small opening and windows. It was almost an attic bedroom 'cause the right side of the room was slanted from the stairs."

"Cute," is all Keith offers before he comes to rest his head on Shiro's chest. Slowly wraps his arms around his middle and lets them droop. He gives a heavy sigh and closes his eyes when Shiro responds by wrapping his own arm around Keith. "Is it crazy that since the day we met, I couldn't get you out of my mind?" he mumbles.

Shiro rests his chin on Keith's head. "Is it crazy that I've been handling it the same way?"

Keith gives a gentle breathy laugh. "Gods, we're insane."

"Let's be insane together?" Shiro offers.

Keith turns to face Shiro who looks down at him. "Let's be insane together," he echoes and rocks on his tiptoes and brings his lips against Shiro's softly. It's a soft, genuine kiss that makes his heart melt and his face softens as he kisses back. He still tastes of chocolate. When they part, Keith presses his forehead onto Shiro's. "Go on and eat some breakfast," he whispers.

"What are you gonna do while I eat?"

"I'm going to use your patio and smoke a joint. Can't use a blunt 'cause then I'd be unable to drive."

"Wouldn't a joint do the same?"

"I have a feeling that Lance wants to finish his food and that Mario game he and Katie have going on before we leave."

"Come and eat a donut with me, at least?"

"For you," Keith gives a small smile and takes ahold of Shiro's hand, leading him out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. Shiro doesn't even mind the looks that the two leaning on each other are sending him. He's busy trying not to smile like a lunatic because of the cheeky smile Hunk is giving the both of them from his place in the kitchen. "Shiro's croissants and a chocolate donut?" Keith asks.

"Want them all heated up?"

"Yes, please," Shiro hums.

"And his strawberry milk," Keith adds. Shiro only beams.

"Give me forty-five seconds and they'll be ready. How's your arm, Shiro?" Hunk is cradling their food in a napkin and setting it in their microwave.

Shiro waves his amputated arm. "Better. The gel worked and the tingling stopped."

Keith only turns to frown at Shiro's stub.

"It's okay, see? It's happy," Shiro shakes his stub at Keith who suddenly cracks with laughter and waves at his face.

"You're ridiculous."

Shiro gives a snort and drops Keith's hand so he can take his strawberry milk carton that Hunk settled down on the counter. "Only for you," he whispers and sends a wink towards Keith.

"Go and sit, I'll be there soon," Keith shakes his head though a smile sits on his face as he goes into the kitchen. Shiro huffs happily and goes to take a seat in the dining room. The microwave beeps and Hunk's hum echoes through, though it fades for a good minute, before coming back, in a happier pitch.

Hunk goes and gives Shiro his breakfast, settling beside a few napkins before going back into the kitchen.

"Thank you, Hunk!" Shiro calls.

Hunk hums his reply. Keith guides himself into the dining room and takes a seat across from Shiro, still yawning as he combs his fingers through his hair, purposely ruffling it on top of his head.

"Ff-ired?" Shiro manages out from a mouthful of his chocolate croissant.

"Mmn," Keith gives another yawn as his answer.

"Nice mullet," Lance calls from the couch.

Keith drops his chin into his palm. "You know Lance, I think you actually do owe me your share of the food I bought–"

"Joking! I was joking!" Lance hollers.

Keith sighs out and only perks a small smile when Shiro offers him the chocolate covered donut. He takes it and eats half before handing it back to Shiro who only takes a bite, making sure Keith finishes the rest.

It's a quiet, migrated home of friends. Other than Lance and Pidge yelling at each other as Luigi jumps on Mario's head to get the gold medallion that glints at the top of the screen. Hunk humming in the kitchen as he chops away at his herbs and spices. Shiro and Keith exchanging glances and smiles, small chattering, more of Shiro just watching Keith has he talks away and flusters up when he catches himself rambling. Shiro heard every word, never tried to tease him about it. Urged him to continue.

When Lance and Pidge have finally defeated Bower's castle, they throw their controllers and cheer.

"This was so worth it for missing class today," Pidge sighs.

"Even though it's not something that can continue," Hunk scolds from the seat he's taken at the edge of the couch.

"Yes sir," Lance childishly pouts.

"Hey, Red. You ready?" Pidge calls.

"Yeah," Keith responds automatically even though he's not even bothered looking at them, too focused on clasping Shiro's hand in his own, resting his chin in his other palm.

Lance opens his mouth to tease, but Pidge cuts him off with a sharp elbow knocking into his side. "Don't," she hisses.

"You wanna come with us? So I'm not alone with those two?" Keith whispers.

"Yeah, I'll help keep them out of your hair," Shiro whispers back.

Keith's smiles, a radiant one, and eventually the two stand from the table and the four get ready to leave.

"You wanna come, Hunk?"

But Hunk shakes his head. "These two have been driving me crazy all morning. I'm looking forward to the quietness. Keith, drive safe, please."

Keith gives him a two-fingered salute and the four head out. Keith driving, Shiro getting shotgun, Lance behind Keith, and Pidge behind Shiro.

"This is a fancy ass car," Lance gasps, rubbing against the tightly sewn leather seating.

"She is. Custom made, too."

"She have a name?" Pidge asks. Keith's Jeep roars to life and the man smiles as he gears them into drive and then they're cruising out of Shiro's apartment complex. It reminds Shiro of when Lotor had picked him up a few days back.

"Nah, didn't bother with a name," Keith is hitting something on his dashboard and the roof visor cracks open just a small bit. All four windows peek a half inch, letting in cooling air. It's nice enough of a breeze.

"You didn't name her?!" Pidge squawks. "You've named all three of your cats, your motorcycle, your fricken' _hippo,_ but not your car?"

"Three?" Shiro questions.

Keith takes it one at a time. He rests his right arm on the armrest compartment and bends his arm out to take Shiro's hand in his, tangling their fingers together. "I thought about Midnight or something like that. It just never stuck–"

"Wait, you have a motorcycle?!" Lance asks.

"Yes," Keith continues, both to Shiro and Lance. "You've met Red and Black," he mentions to Shiro now. "And the third one, her name is White. She's Lotor's. Red and Black are mine."

"How come cats?"

"We're not very hyper people. We're high more than half the time. And Lotor can't handle dogs. Besides, you'll probably never see White. She's strictly about Lotor and not very social herself."

"And Red scratches and hisses whenever Keith isn't around," Pidge hisses. "Black hardly responds to anyone other than Keith. She hisses at Lotor, too!"

Shiro just blinks over at Keith who shrugs. "They're not very used to people contact other than me."

"Motorcycle!" Lance cuts in.

"Her name is Cherry."

"Cherry?" Lance questions.

"Was gonna do Red, but it'd be difficult."

"What breed is she?"

"No clue. Dad had left it for me," Keith takes a turn somewhere and they glide through traffic. He handles fairly well with his other hand occupied. "She was old and covered in dust when I found her in the shack. So when I decided to take her to get fixed and repaired, she kept her red paint. And her coat is cherry colored, so," Keith trails off. "She can reach up to 300," he sighs dreamily. "Gorgeous, too."

"I've never seen Cherry," Pidge mumbles.

"She'd probably intimidate you by you just looking at her."

"Ha-ha."

"I'll take you for a ride, then," Keith grins at Pidge through the rearview mirror. "I know a place where I took her to get her fixed."

"Hey!" Lance intersects.

"I'll take you, too, Lance."

Shiro gives a pathetic whine. Keith raises his eyebrow at him.

"You as well, Shiro."

Shiro gives a childish hum.

They arrive at Pidge's house in just under ten minutes. And it was apparent that Pidge was coming home because Matt sat on their front steps, waiting. When he saw what car it was, Shiro could see his face dropping back, perhaps in annoyance. Keith didn't seem bothered.

Rolling up and stopping right in front of Pidge's house, Keith parked and unlocked the doors.

"Hey, Red," Pidge starts.

"Mmn?"

"I'm sorry about Matt's actions last night. I know it'll take him a while to warm up to you, but he really doesn't mean it."

She sees Keith slightly narrow his eyes in front of him. "Right. Be safe, Katie. Tell your dad I said hello."

Pidge sighs lightly, tells her friends goodbye before heading out, closing the door behind her. Keith waits until Pidge and Matt are inside their house before gearing into drive and cruising off.

Lance takes the small silence as his cue to come and sit in the middle of the backseat, holding himself up on the corners of both front seats. "So. A few questions."

"Mmn."

"Why did you have us call you Red instead of your actual name?"

Keith considers.

"Lance, you tend to use my name in a very degrading way. You've called me a murderer and still have, I'm sure since you seem to have forgotten."

Lance goes silent for a moment.

"If I had just walked up to you at my party and mentioned myself as 'Keith', how would you respond?" Keith continues. Lance doesn't respond. Keith huffs a weak laugh. "Funny how you all want to talk behind my back, yet you've all attended the parties that I throw," he bites out.

Shiro offers to soothe him by rubbing his thumb into Keith's palm.

"Where do you live, Lance," Keith says it more of a demand than a question. Completely moving off topic.

"Um, take a– take a right up here. Stay on the road for a good five minutes, take another right on Oak Street and it's house number 3859. Seventh house on your left," Lance mumbles.

Keith picks at the gas pedal and they cruise in a semi-awkward quietness. Shiro nearly feels the air becoming so thick he could taste it.

They arrive at Lance's house in under five minutes.

Lance mutters an apology before he takes his leave. Keith doesn't bother to wait until he's inside before driving off.

"Kitten," Shiro offers.

Keith visibly relaxes and sags in his seat.

"You didn't tell me you had a hippo."

"I–" Keith seems to be caught off-guard in the statement. But he catches himself and slowly shrugs. "Yeah. A huge stuffed hippo. I won it at one of those fair-park things."

"What's its name?"

"Mr. Hippo," Keith mumbles. "I know, I'm not good with names."

"You just like to keep things simple, is all. Nothing bad," Shiro chuckles.

When he and Keith come back to the apartment, Keith went to light a well deserved blunt out on their patio. He came back inside, hazily smiling at Shiro who was sitting on the couch. He plopped down, wrapped his arms around his middle as he rested his head in Shiro's lap and proceeded to pass out.

At twelve, Hunk made him and Shiro some food to munch on, Shiro going with a salad and Hunk having some celery with peanut butter.

It hit one thirty when Shiro was debating on whether or not to wake Keith up. Hearing his gentle rumbling, seeing his face relaxed, it was hard to not wake him up and let him sleep. It was Hunk's quiet huffs and shaking of his head that Shiro finally came around to gently shake Keith.

"Mmmn," Keith grumbled.

"Keith, you gotta get up," Shiro whispered.

"Why?"

"You have to go visit your uncles, remember?"

Keith moans in annoyance in Shiro's lap.

"I'll heat you up a donut," Hunk tries.

"Don't want 'eny," Keith stifles a yawn.

"It'll be for a few hours. And I think you need it," Shiro rubs at his back.

"–'an wear y'r clothes?" Keith asks.

"Of course."

With a childish huff, Keith unwraps his arms and pushes himself to sit up. He rubs at his face and combs his hair back before sighing. "What time is it?"

"One-thirty," Hunk answers.

"I'll be a little late if I don't speed," Keith scratches his nose and scoots aside, closer to Shiro before grabbing his face and pulling him down for a short kiss. Hunk gasps from the kitchen. When Keith pulls back, he smacks his lips. "Why the hell do you taste like Italian dressing?"

"I had a salad for lunch," Shiro chuckles, licking his lips.

"Try something packed with sugar. Tastes way better," Keith smiles and stands from the couch, stretching, before going to get his things. He comes back, dressed in a new pair of Shiro's clothing of some sweats and an old shirt, still looking tired but awake enough to drive. Hair is pulled back up and his black fingerless gloves on. "Remember, Friday. All day," then he's out the door.

Shiro swears he can hear the purring rumble of Keith's jeep as he drives off.

Keith still texted him for the rest of the day. It continued through Thursday.

And it's Friday before Shiro can even register, and in the midst of his sleep, he's yawning and trying to stretch out when he bumps into something warm and has to rub at his eyes before trying to peer in the pitch darkness. "The hell–?" he grumbles.

A gentle chuckle echoes through the silence and Shiro blinks.

"Keith?"

"Sorry, sorry. Go back to sleep, Puppy."

"Mmmh, come 'ere," Shiro moves anyways and wraps his arms around Keith's middle, bringing him in close. "–time is it?"

Keith is giving another chuckle and cuddling in close to his chest, tangling their legs together. "Midnight. I told you I'd be with you all day."

"Didn't think you meant literally," Shiro mumbles.

"Shhh," Keith shushes him quietly. "Go back to bed, Shiro. I'll be here when you wake up," he whispers.

"Mmn– care for you," Shiro gets out before he's tucking his face into Keith's neck and feels himself fall back asleep.

When he comes to, Keith is still sleeping. And cradling Shiro's head into his chest. His skin and blood arm is resting on Keith's firm hipbone and their legs stay tangled, with Keith's toes tickled at Shiro's knees. The action of it is cute and Shiro can't help but laugh outright, causing Keith to rumble awake.

"Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just– you're cuddling my head," Shiro snickers.

"Sorry," Keith yawns and unwraps his arms from Shiro's head, shifting back so he can sit up and glance back at his phone on the dresser, white lines blaring 9:25 a.m. on the screen.

"I didn't mind it," Shiro mumbles out. Keith turns to look back at him and raises a thin eyebrow while a small smirk curves on his lips.

"As much as I'd like to go right back to sleep. We need to go and get breakfast."

"We don't have to?" Shiro tries. "We can just stay and be lazy indoors until later. Go and have brunch in a few more hours."

"Promise to keep me warm?"

"Always."

Keith has no further interjections because he's undoing his red hair band that's holding up his locks and lying back down, curling right against Shiro's chest, getting comfy.

Shiro pulls the blankets over them and rests his chin on Keith's head.

_Please, let today go by smoothly.._

_~~I can't lose Keith.~~ _

 

They lied in bed for the next handful of hours. On and off naps, other times, they would just lay against each other and not speak, just mingle in silence. Shiro rubbed circles in Keith's hipbone. Keith traced circles in Shiro's chest. They stayed that way until two in the afternoon.

Shiro claims it as productive.

Keith had finally dragged Shiro out of bed, and the two (more of Shiro) changed into the comfiest outfit they could find and went out to have brunch. Shiro was in the mood for some chicken fingers and happily agreed to go and get the 40 piece pack of Chicken McNuggets –don't get him wrong, he dislikes the restaurant– and nearly four handfuls of sauces. Siding with four things of fries, and two large drinks, one Sprite the other a water with extra ice, him and Keith parked in an empty parking lot, raised the visor and shifted their seats all the way back, watching the painty blue sky, often times calling out puffy clouds. Music echoed softly from the stereo in the background.

It was one of the best moments Shiro had in his life.

When they finished, Keith went and ordered himself another 40-piece pack of nuggets before they headed back to Shiro's apartment.

"Why'd you get another pack?" Shiro's laughing at him, holding his stomach. "My Gods, I'm so full—"

"I know it's gonna be something I'll crave in a few hours. Might as well get it now."

"That's so much money, though–"

"It's hardly anything," Keith snickers. "Promise."

They get back to the apartment, waddling like small children up the stairs. Shiro convinces Keith to lay with him on the couch, and just daze, possibly nap.

"I just realized, where's Hunk?"

"Class. But we both agreed to let us have the apartment all day today. He'll be at Katie's tonight."

"When did that happen?"

"Wednesday."

"You planned it?"

"Well, yeah. It'd be rude of me not to. I don't want him to feel awkward."

"Huh," Shiro plops on the couch. Keith puts away his share of food and comes to join Shiro on the couch. They change the channel to Spongebob, the two are so ready for their food comas that they speak every line as the episode goes on.

Shiro was out first. Knocked out with his arm as a pillow. Keith went to get a blanket and was out right behind them.

 

When they woke up, the sky outside was fading from blue to black. It would have been a beautiful sight if they were awake before it.

Keith is the first one awake, and he's munching away at his cold nuggets and barbecue sauce.

"Mmmph," Shiro groans. He slides his arm out from his head and pats himself. "Keeeeeeeeef."

"Right here, Pup. How'd you sleep?"

"Good. I was warm," Shiro yawns slowly comes to sit up. "How long've you been'p?"

"Almost half an hour. You looked super cute sleeping."

"Hmm," Shiro hums his smile. "What time 's't?"

"Ahh. Almost nine o'clock."

"We missed the whole day."

"We're actually on a good schedule. Are you hungry?"

"Still kind've full. Why?"

"Curious."

When Shiro is finally able to blink his eyes awake, Keith is sucking at his fingers, ridding of all the grease and crumbs. He sits in the small gap of the couch and their black coffee table.

"You in the mood for coffee, though?"

"I could go for one, yes," Shiro chuckles. "Do we need to change?"

"Nope. Perfect how we are."

Keith cleaned his mess and Shiro went to brush his teeth before heading out, where Keith took him to a small coffee shop in the middle of town. At the late time, there weren't many people. Shiro was only happy because the smell of grounded coffee beans made an instant smile.

Keith ordered himself a coffee, black. Shiro ordered (much to Keith's constant reassurance he would pay) a Snickers Latte, with extra caramel. Keith paid up front, and while Shiro was humming against the lid of his drink, Keith poured two packets of sugar into his coffee and they found themselves a table by the window.

It was small, simple. They mingled in small conversations, often cracking smiles and quiet laughter. They were so engrossed in each other that they hadn't noticed they talked for two hours.

It was when Shiro was quieting down his laughter that they trailed into a comfortable silence, at least on Shiro's end. When Keith had given a breathy laugh and looked down at his cup sitting in his palms.

"Shiro," Keith started.

"Keith."

Rhythm.

There was an odd fidgetiness to Keith as he sat there, scraping his pale fingernail against his cup.

"There's really no best way to bring this up, so here it goes," Keith breathes out. But he continues on, in a slightly faded tone. "As a child, you're afraid of the normal things. The dark, monsters under your bed or in your closet. Stuff like that. But for me, I dunno. I was afraid of losing Lotor, and my Uncles," he pauses.

Shiro notices, that Keith never once looks up from his cup.

He continues, "when I was of age, I had asked where my parents where. And it was Kolivan that told me, you know, my mom died and my dad walked and left us. I remember being so angry that I just screamed. And for a while, I came to believe that it was my birth that killed my mom. That something had happened and it came to kill her," Keith lifts his fingers and drags the digits against the nasty scar on his cheek. "And it led me down a nasty path, growing up. I failed classes, started picking fights with other students and teachers. We moved, maybe five or six times, because I had gotten suspended or expelled. And it was like that until I was maybe fifteen-sixteen. I found a small joint in Lotor's bedroom, under his pillow and I smoked it. And Lotor walked in on me and I can't remember the conversation fully but after that, he was the one who hooked me up with one. We hid them from our Uncles as best we could, but they'd smell it on our breath or see it from our eyes.

It got worse from there, we started sneaking out and going to parties and drank until we passed out. We'd come home and they'd be waiting for us on the porch. And we'd get into a big argument of where we were and what happened. It became a normal routine that they gave up trying. We'd come home, still high, and they wouldn't even bother. But I guess them doing that made me stop.

I had the fear that they were going to leave us. And I couldn't bear it, still a fuckin' kid– and I stopped smoking and drinking. I stopped completely. But it got worse. And I tried calling for help at one point during it, but my stomach completely shut down on me. And I ended up being hospitalized for almost two weeks," Keith breathes out, swallows.

Shiro never once speaks or tries to, only lending his hand out to Keith, who doesn't take it. His hands are twitching against his cup, head hung lower, Shiro can't even see his eyes.

"I, uh– went into rehab after that. Listened to some stories. Was in there for a year. After that, my life was slowly coming around. I was clean, I guess, and my Uncles were happier around me. They weren't so frustrated. I had written them a letter when I was in rehab, apologizing for the shit I had done and caused. It took them a while to ease up, but it was worth it.

And since I was planning on going back to school, they had me help around the house and start looking for jobs to ease into responsibility. I was on track until I was eighteen. I just graduated high school, barely. Lotor had come home, yelling at Kolivan about mom and her money. He said something like they were purposely hiding the fact she had a large worth of lives pay and as her children, we should have it, whether or not we would use it. And so Uncle Antok kicked him out, made him leave. Took me two weeks before I had walked out to join him.

Lotor had managed to call a guy and somehow was able to get moms pay into our bank accounts, splitting it well enough evenly. We moved and lived through apartments at first, and Lotor was trying to look for better places, more secluded ones. And he found the cabin he took you to, last weekend. We lived there until last year. Live in the house we do now."

Shiro takes a long moment to soak up the information. It stretches to a long, heavy silence between the two.

"Can you tell me about the scar on your cheek?" Shiro whispers out.

Keith sits up a bit straighter, lifts his head, and dazedly blinks his eyes. "Heated blade. Was high, trying to cook some more weed brownies. I was using the knife and hadn't connected the dots that it would be hot from the pan. Went to scratch at my cheek, knife still in my fuckin' hand and jerked," Keith makes a motion of harshly wiping at his cheek with the back of his index finger. "Burnt the skin down immediately."

Shiro takes a breath himself and closes his eyes.

Keith notices and swallows. He goes back to scratching at his cup. "I could keep telling you about all the shit I've done since I was born. What the purpose of me saying this was because I wanted to let you know my background, instead of finding out through some airhead who enjoys rumors. And because I know that you're wanting there to be more between us."

Shiro jerks his eyes open and stares at Keith. He huffs a small, weak laugh and drops his head into his palm, tugging at his purple colored locks.

"Shiro, I've been through so much shit that I'm not even considered fully human. I've done things, terrible things. I've gotten in trouble, I stole, I lied, so much," Keith begins. "And I can't just hide all of it from you. A good guy with a clean record, never once done drugs or gone to jail for stupid shit.

I— this was not supposed to go on for this long," Keith says finally. "This, between us," he jerks his hand in the space of him and Shiro, "was not something that should've lasted this long. A week, at most. But it's a month and I'm scared."

"Why are you scared, Keith?"

"Because I like you," Keith can't even voice a whisper. When he looks up, Shiro is rendered into silence at tears bubbling in those gorgeous violet eyes. "I like you so fucking much and I'm scared that something is going to happen and you're going to be taken away from me," his voice cracks. "And I don't know what I'll do. I don't think I could handle it."

Shiro feels himself frown and he reaches his hand out again. Keith takes it and Shiro feels just how much Keith has been shaking.

"There's," Keith's voice breaks again, "there's better people out there. People who don't pick fights, who don't sleep with a fucking knife under their pillow, social people. Ones who aren't afraid of getting close to others. Who isn't being accused of murder–"

"Keith."

The man quiets down.

"I don't care about any of that. Look at me," he begs. Keith slowly brings his eyes back to Shiro's face. A small tear streaks down his freckled skin. "There is so much more to you than your background, okay? You've done so much for me these past few weeks than anyone ever has in my life. I'm on cloud nine when I'm around you and call me cheesy, but I love it. I'm in ecstasy, I–"

"Are you working from nine to five?" Keith questions.

It takes a good moment before Shiro is cracking up, which makes Keith spark a small smile. "Did you just make a Michael Jackson reference?"

"I'm glad you noticed," Keith sniffles but doesn't bother trying to wipe his eyes. "Before we make any more messes of ourselves, the entire point I was trying to bring, um. If you truly don't mind about all of my mess even after I told you, would you like to see where this goes and go out with me?" he manages out without faltering.

Shiro has to watch Keith for a moment, watching his face. Violet eyes are large and dark, still glossy with tears. Cheeks are dusted red from the overstimulation of trying to keep blood flow. Nose is pink and stuffy. Lips chapped and parted in a gentle manner.

He smiles a large genuine smile. "I would love to."

Keith mirrors him, eyes closed in a blissful happy look. Shiro thinks he looks gorgeous.

"I should also tell you something since you've done your share," Shiro mentions.

"I'm listening," Keith opens his eyes, wipes underneath his lid with the knuckle of his finger.

"I guess I kinda lied to you too? On our names," Shiro chuckles. Keith only raises an eyebrow. "My name is Takashi. Shiro, or Shirogane is my surname," he bubbles out.

Keith tilts his head to the side. "Huh."

"What?"

"Takashi Shirogane," Keith muses out. Releases his cup to drop his chin in his palm. "Takashi," he repeats.

The thing is, Shiro's heard his name before. Plenty of times by his grandparents. But _fuck,_ the way his name rolls off on Keith's – _pierced_ – tongue, is making him hot and uncomfortable.

Keith notices and cocks a brow. "Oh? He likes the name, so he does," he teases.

Shiro feels blood course through his veins. He can't even come up with a remark. So instead he moves to stand from his seat, still holding Keith's hand and walks over, settling beside him. Keith scoots over for Shiro to have more space.

"Mmn," Shiro hums.

"Mmn?" Keith echoes him.

Shiro shifts, turns toward Keith and leans down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Keith returns with a small fever but never tries to overdo it, instead just bringing his free hand to card through Shiro's fuzzy undercut. They mingle their lips, never breaking apart just yet, just living in the soft preference of each other.

When they finally part, Keith lets his fingertips tingle against Shiro's cheek.

"Gods, I'm so fucking crazy about you," Shiro whispers.

Keith quietly laughs. "I am, too," he responds in an equally gentle tone.

"Do you think we can spend the night at your house? As much as I love my apartment, I haven't been to your place in a small while."

"You mean five days?" Keith snorts at him.

"That's a long time, you know."

"Of course, Puppy. We can spend the night at my place."

Shiro just hums happily.

"Do you want to stay a little bit longer or go now?"

"I really don't know. I'm in one of those moods where I'm happy to do whatever you want to do," Shiro replies honestly.

_~~He's falling hard.~~ _

"We'll finish our drinks, I'll order something sugary and then we can head home and watch those lame ass chick-flicks until we fall asleep."

"Could we possibly stop for some more nuggets, too?" Shiro quietly asks.

Keith puffs his chest out, seeming proud. "Baby, for you? I'll buy you as much as you want."

Shiro can't help the insane smile on his face.

 

They finish their drinks, taking their time. Leaning against each other as they sipped quietly. No words were spoken, it was comfortable between them. Keith came around to ordering the rest of the sugar cookies before the two left, and he finished all of them before they managed to order chicken nuggets.

Keith was absolutely crazy. He had driven up, actually responded to the man behind the speaker.

"Welcome to McDonald's, how are you doing today?"

"I'm doing fantastic," then he turned to Shiro who was staring at him. "How much do you want?"

"I, uh– just the twenty pack. I won't eat that much."

And Keith nodded, then ordered the fucking _100-piece nuggets_ , four things of fries, a large Sprite, and even politely asked the man to get four limes and add it with the water with extra ice.

The man seemed surprised behind the speaker, as well. Recalled their order and Keith drove to the first window, slipping out his wallet from the side of his car door.

"Keith, you're insane. Why'd you order a hundred?!" Shiro whisper yelled.

"I'm pretty sure that you're gonna thank me later for it."

"Why'd you have them put limes in my drink?"

"Because you've ordered limes in your drink before?" Keith questions back. "Do you not like limes? You want something else?"

Shiro sat there in shock. Keith was serious, looking truly confused. He just laughed, and it became watery. Leaning over, he pulled Keith down and brought him in for a kiss.

"Shiro?"

"I care for you," Shiro says firmly against him. "I really do. You've made me so fucking happy," he presses their forehead together.

Keith smiles. "I care for you," he echoes, just as firm.

 

And they got their food, Shiro snacking happily with his fries and sauces as Keith drove them home. He even rolled down the windows and pulled the visor open, and Shiro had never felt so fucking _alive._

Blaring music, they cruise the road. Keith didn't bother turning it down until they came to park in their garage. They got everything and came inside. When Shiro had gotten their food down, Keith grabbed his hand and guided him back outside. It was a separate garage and Keith hauled the sliding open.

Lights blared immediately and Shiro had to squint his eyes but once they adjusted, he gasped at the beautiful sight sitting there.

It was Cherry, in all of her glory stood parked on her center stand. Coat was a freshly painted cherry colored red that glinted and sparkled in the lighting. Tires seemed cleaned and they glared a haughty promise—

Shiro had no idea where to start.

Keith smirked over at him. "I'll take you out on a ride tomorrow night, baby. Tonight, we have plans with food, a couple blunts, and shitty movies."

"She's gorgeous," Shiro breathes.

"You like 'er? Took me a few years to manhandle her to be where she is now. She's fuckin' expensive, too."

Shiro can't even say much else because a cheeky smile is on his face and Keith mirrors him as he pulls the sliding down and guides Shiro back inside. They handle their food upstairs to Keith's bedroom where Red and Black are purring and curling against each other in their bed that sits beside the bedroom drawer.

Shiro smiles at them. "Black is turning greyish-white at her roots. How old is she?"

"I've had her when I was nineteen. So, four years?"

"She's young to be getting grey," Shiro frowns. "I do enjoy how they're both females."

"You, too, huh? I never wondered why but they're close. Very protective of each other," Keith glances up at the fakely yellow dimmed stars that praise light above them on his ceiling.

Shiro comes to set their food down before going over to where Red and Black are. Red is immediate to prowl and lower her ears at him. But Black seems to take interest and even offers out her paw, two, three times, as a gesture. Shiro squats down and holds out his palm. Black tries again and rests her paw in Shiro's hand.

"She's never done that before," Keith comments behind him.

"She's adorable," Shiro smiles as he curls his hand and rubs his index finger behind her ear. She takes a moment before she lets her eyes flutter down and lets out a large yawn, curling into his finger. When Black becomes too overstimulated, she parts her head and goes to nudge at Red. Shiro stands and comes back to Keith who's made himself comfortable on the bed, already stuffing his mouth with nuggets and fries. He snorts a laugh.

"Whaff?"

"Do you have the munchies?"

"Nah. I'm just a food junkie," Keith manages after he swallows. The t.v. in across them glares on.

"I don't remember you having a t.v–"

"Maybe five days were too long for you," Keith jokes. "I put it in here two days ago. Lotor was wanting to give rid of it but decided to ask me first before he did so," he shrugs and pats beside him. "C'mon."

Shiro joins Keith's side, not minding the cool air that breezes in right behind them. They chose their first movie, Shiro wanting to watch Scream and Keith had to hurry and get them large comforters. Managing finally with large blankets, they huddled together, snacked on their food and watched the movie.

With Keith's occasional, "Even though Billy is the killer, he's fuckin' hot, like the fuck–" and his, "oh shit, I forgot Shaggy's in here, too," with Shiro laughing at him. 

It was nice, peaceful. Relaxed. After a while, they settled onto their stomachs, still huddled side by side, still munching on their food. Red and Black came to join them on the bed, with Red curling under the covers right beside Keith's leg and Black joining besides her.

When Keith had finished his share of the food, which was a lot to Shiro's surprise, he reached over and shuffled out a blunt and his square lighter, lighting the butt before bringing the paper go his lips.

As much as Shiro wanted to watch the movie, he couldn't help but focus more on Keith's technique of breathing beside him.

In for three long seconds.

Hold for ten.

Release in five.

Breathe in the apples and sugar.

Occasionally with the crunch of the paper being ground by his molars. The slickness of when his tongue parted on his lips.

"Keith."

Two seconds.

"Shiro."

Rhythm.

"God, just– kiss me," Shiro turned towards Keith who glanced over at him. Had no problem in obliging, breathing in from his burning paper before leaning forward and crashing their lips together.

Keith breathed out, Shiro in.

The headspin was a welcoming gesture and the movie was long forgotten by now. Shiro too occupied in Keith's mouth against him, trading off flavored tasting tendrils of grey.

"Kiss me hard," Shiro whispered in between kisses and Keith laughed against his mouth.

"Cue dramatic thunder. Cry Baby, really?"

Shiro just grinned. "Hell yeah."

"Want to reenact the scene, then?"

"Fuck yes."

And Keith went at him, made Shiro's lips sore and throb with blood pumping in. Keith's lip piercings became aggravated and started to bleed, but Shiro only took it with promise and sucked at Keith's bottom lip, dragging his tongue across the swollen skin.

Sharing more tendrils of smoke, they were hazed within the next twenty minutes, both just staring at each other with dilated eyes. Both pairs of lips were still parted and swollen, due to be sore. Cheeks flushed with a heavy dose of red. Chests heaving.

Shiro felt _amazing._

"Holy shit," he breathes, slowly blinking. "Holy… shit."

Keith grins at him, leans forward and delivers a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Goodnight, Shiro."

"Goodnight, Keith."

The two huddled closer, cats curled together, and the four were out while their food got cold and the t.v. played on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry I took like two weeks to get this one out >-> class is kickin my ass
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! the babies are finally together ;) next chapter will start to mention more of keith's lifestyle


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